L 


A   NYMPH 


OF    THE    WE  ST 


A  NOVEL 


BY 

HOWARD     SEELY 


NEW  YORK 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1888 


COPYRIGHT,  1888, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

SAMUEL  DUFFIELD  OSBORNE 

A     TRIBUTE     TO 
LITERARY     SYMPATHY     AND     FRIENDSHIP 


2072161 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 


i. 

MIDWAY  between  Lampasas  and  San  Saba,  the 
Colorado  Kiver  runs  —  a  wild,  romantic,  winding 
stream.  At  times  its  placid  current  flows  evenly  over 
dimpling  shoals  and  gleaming  pebbles.  Again,  the 
waters  deepen,  and  by  flower-bordered  banks  its  cur- 
rent eddies  sullen,  slow,  and  grand.  But  there  is  one 
place  where  the  river  plunges  madly  downward  to 
roar  at  the  base  of  precipitous  rocks  and  writhe  over 
bowlders  in  its  shallow  bed.  Overhead  dark  hem- 
locks curtain  this  rage  of  waters  from  the  gaze  of 
day.  The  sunlight  enters  only  by  stealth,  and  then 
in  tremulous  pencils.  At  such  moments,  against  the 
somber  green  of  the  swaying  pines,  the  red -bird 
flashes,  or  the  indigo-bird  is  seen — a  living  sapphire 
in  the  sudden  light ;  and  the  rippling  melody  of 
rival  mocking-birds  enters  the  solemn  aisles  as  though 
the  gate  of  heaven  were  left  ajar.  Within  these  aisles 
the  foot  sinks  luxuriously  amid  cushions  of  hemlock- 
boughs  and  pine-needles  ;  the  tall,  time-scarred  trunks 
lift  themselves  dimly  like  pillars  of  some  leafy  Gothic 
dome  ;  the  vague  ranks  of  forest  exhale  their  cool, 
damp  spicery.  All  Nature  is  hushed  and  wan.  Only 
the  river's  moan  comes  faintly ;  and  everywhere 


6  A  NYMPH   OF   THE   WEST. 

roundabout,  and  pervading  all  things,  are  the  twi- 
light and  seclusion  beloved  by  the  dryad. 

Whether  Miss  Cynthia  Dallas,  on  a  certain  mild 
February  afternoon,  was  at  all  impressed  by  any  of 
these  sylvan  suggestions,  I  can  not  say.  Her  un- 
tutored mind  was  as  yet  guiltless  of  mythology,  and 
no  vision  of  straying  god  or  goddess,  no  whimsical 
train  of  nymph  and  faun,  had  hitherto  invaded  her 
slumbering  fancy.  Yet,  swinging  lightly  in  a  netted 
hammock,  within  an  innermost  recess  of  this  spicy 
vault,  just  where  a  slanting  beam  of  sunlight  fell  full 
upon  her  graceful  figure,  she  might  well  have  been 
mistaken  for  some  wood-nymph  surprised  amid  her 
favorite  haunts — so  quaint  a  figure  was  she,  and  yet 
so  essentially  in  keeping  with  the  woodland  stillness, 
of  which  she  seemed  a  part.  She  reclined  at  ease,  and 
lazily,  as  the  hammock  swung,  noted  the  soft  play  of 
sunlight  through  the  boughs  above,  and  the  trembling 
arabesques  of  spray  and  shadow.  Her  hands,  holding 
a  small  leathern  whip  with  deer-foot  handle,  were 
clasped  behind  her  head,  at  once  with  graceful  and 
careless  abandon.  A  blonde  beauty,  somewhat  sun- 
tanned and  freckle-strewn,  her  attire  a  plain  blue 
woolen  gown,  that  clung  almost  tenderly  to  the 
charming  curves  of  her  figure ;  but,  swinging  thus, 
and  with  a  little  silver  spur  upon  the  shoe  of  her  left 
foot,  tinkling  as  she  swung,  a  fascinating  picture,  cer- 
tainly, for  some  stumbling  Strephon. 

Of  such  amatory  interruption  Miss  Cynthia  was 
happily  unconscious.  The  dark  lashes  that  fringed 
her  eyes  of  velvet-blue  had  a  certain  deprecatory 
curve,  as  though  they  waved  a  playful  warning  against 
all  approaches  of  the  tender  passion.  Mischief,  not 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  7 

sentiment,  as  yet  dwelt  behind  the  roguish  lids.  The 
curves  of  her  rosy  lips  swept  upward  at  the  corners, 
where  two  little  lines,  like  accents,  gave  her  an  elfish 
look,  and  mocked  the  sweetness  of  the  mouth  with 
subtle  irony.  And  yet,  so  graciously  had  Nature 
touched  and  molded  the  face,  so  charmingly  lavished 
upon  this  woodland  maiden  a  wealth  of  tresses  of 
auburn  gold — tresses  amid  which  the  sun  loved  to 
linger,  and  glint  his  reckless  admiration — that  the 
impression  left  was  at  once  piquant  and  bewitching. 
Possibly  it  was  owing  to  this  that  the  sun  sought  her 
out  so  persistently  in  her  dim  retreat,  this  very  after- 
noon, thinking,  with  pardonable  fascination,  he  had 
found  his  Daphne. 

I  must  protest,  however,  that  this  fascination  of 
Phoebus  was  not  without  its  detractions.  Certain 
locks  upon  the  top  of  Miss  Cynthia's  head,  where  the 
golden  hue  had  been  bleached  into  a  lighter  tint,  be- 
trayed the  damaging  tendencies  of  his  caresses,  as  well 
as  a  reckless  disregard  for  the  bondage  of  head-gear. 
Miss  Cynthia  was  at  present  bareheaded.  I  regret 
that  this  negligence  had  become  a  habit.  There  was, 
I  believe,  a  felt  something  lying  on  the  ground  among 
the  pine-needles,  which,  from  the  fact  that  it  was 
decorated  with  a  ribbon  or  two,  and  a  gaudy  wood- 
pecker's wing  at  an  extravagant  angle,  like  a  sail  upon 
the  port  tack,  may  have  been  once  intended  for  a  be- 
coming bonnet.  But,  at  the  unexpected  moment  of 
the  young  lady's  introduction,  a  pet  antelope  fawn 
was  attempting  to  browse  upon  it,  and,  from  present 
indications,  meeting  with  gratifying  success.  The 
antelope  was  assisting  his  prandial  experiments  by  a 
vicious  attack  upon  the  hat  with  his  sharp  fore-feet. 


8  A  NYMPH   OF  TEE   WEST. 

A  grave  hound,  seated  upon  his  haunches  at  a  respect- 
ful distance  from  this  serious  campaign  against  mod- 
ern dress,  regarded  the  antelope's  sincere  efforts  with 
a  solemn  approval  that  was  certainly  flattering.  Cyn- 
thia, her  abstracted  eyes  still  lost  in  contemplation  of 
the  swaying  canopy  of  green  above  her  head,  or  watch- 
ing through  a  sudden  vista  the  calm  poise  of  a  gray 
hawk  circling  aloft  in  the  limitless  ether,  was  rapt 
and  all  unconscious. 

Suddenly  she  raised  her  head  with  a  start.  A 
sharp,  articulate  cry  broke  the  stillness.  The  ante- 
lope dashed  away  in  sudden  panic  to  a  remote  corner 
of  the  bovver,  where  he  stood  eying  her  askance — a 
few  feathers  from  the  gaudy  wing  still  clinging  to 
his  mouth.  The  great  hound  raised  himself  with  a 
preliminary  stretch  and  monstrous  yawn,  as  if  ex- 
pecting a  departure. 

The  girl  caught  up  the  luckless  hat  with  a  gesture 
of  annoyance,  and  a  snap  of  her  whip  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  terrified  fawn — a  movement  at  which  the 
hound,  with  drooping  ears  and  tail,  was  stricken  into 
an  attitude  of  eloquent  reproach. 

"Not  you,  old  boy,"  she  said  kindly,  patting  his 
broad  head  ;  "but  his  impudence  yonder  !  He  knows 
it,  the  cute  rascal,  and  he'll  hear  from  me  later ! 
P'raps  he  thinks  I'm  sittin'  up  nights  makin'  lovely 
hats  jes'  to  give  him  a  chance  to  try  his  new  teeth. 
Naturally  not,  I  reckon. — But,  Aulus,"  she  con- 
tinued interrogatively,  addressing  the  grave  hound, 
"  I'm  sure  I  heard  a  noise,  old  boy,  didn't  you  ? 
What  was  thet  ?  Didn't  you  get  to  hear  it  ?  " 

The  hound,  raising  his  ears  with  the  droll  inter- 
est of  dogs  of  that  family,  walked  gravely  to  the  edge 


A  NYMPH  .OF  THE  WEST.  9 

of  a  cliff  on  which  the  bower  abutted,  and  looked 
solemnly  down.  Suddenly  his  tail  began  to  wag  with 
lively  interest.  The  girl  sprang  from  the  hammock 
with  a  lithe  activity  that  left  it  swinging  furiously 
behind  her.  Creeping  forward  cautiously  beside  him, 
she  gazed  below.  Far,  abrupt,  and  sheer,  down  the 
precipitous  descent,  she  beheld  a  man  floundering  in 
the  rapids.  A  dog,  dripping  wet  and  timorously 
wretched,  was  following  him.  It  was  the  latter 
which  had  awakened  the  interest  of  the  grave  Aulus. 

Both  were  in  evident  distress,  and  endeavoring  to 
effect  a  crossing  by  leaping  from  bowlder  to  bowlder 
amid  the  whirling  waters.  But  the  rocks  were  slip- 
pery and  moss-grown,  the  current  dizzy  and  swift. 
All  at  once  the  man's  feet  slipped  on  a  treacherous 
stone,  and  he  tottered  heavily  backward.  He  sat 
down  rather  than  fell  upon  his  wretched  dog,  who 
was  following  him  closely  with  frantic  leaps.  The 
animal  uttered  an  agonizing  yelp,  and  with  a  great 
splash  both  dog  and  man  were  precipitated  into  the 
angry  waters. 

The  girl  threw  her  head  back  and  laughed  long 
and  musically  in  her  sylvan  bower.  At  the  unaccus- 
tomed sound  a  mocking-bird,  that  had  strayed  into 
her  retreat  and  perched  upon  a  high  limb,  apparently 
for  rest  and  meditation,  turned  his  pretty  head  to 
one  side  and  listened  attentively,  as  if  about  to  favor 
her  with  an  imitation.  The  antelope  trotted  coyly 
up  to  her.  Aulus,  with  rapidly  wagging  tail  and 
whimpering  muzzle,  testified  the  humor  of  the  catas- 
trophe from  a  canine  standpoint.  In  this  sympa- 
thetic merriment  Cynthia  half  reclined  between  her 
pets,  one  arm  about  the  hound's  neck,  the  other 


10  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

thrown  caressingly  around  the  already  forgiven  fawn. 
The  mocking-bird  looked  down  approvingly,  and 
actually  improvised  a  few  bars  of  bubbling  melody  by 
way  of  comment.  Fully  three  minutes  elapsed  in 
this  harmonious  interchange  of  opinion.  Then  the 
girl  crept  forward  again  and  peered  below.  The  man 
had  extricated  himself  from  the  water  and  was  seated, 
chilly  and  miserable,  upon  a  large  rock  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream. 

Cynthia  now  noticed  that  he  carried  a  gun,  the 
barrels  of  which  had  been  filled  with  water  during  his 
recent  immersion.  He  was  occupied  in  emptying  the 
fowling-piece,  squeezing  the  water  from  his  dripping 
clothing,  and  regarding  with  general  discomfiture  his 
pitiable  plight.  The  dog  at  his  side,  with  cowering 
limbs  and  shivering  hide,  was  hardly  less  miserable 
and  wretched,  and  expressed  in  pathetic  dumb-show 
his  conviction  that  matters  could  hardly  be  worse — 
at  least  from  a  dog's  limited  point  of  view.  Two 
large  and  heavy  feathered  objects,  which  the  man  had 
just  cast  down  upon  the  rock,  completed  the  group. 

"What  do  you  think,  old  boy?"  said  the  girl, 
affectionately,  taking  the  hound  by  both  his  large 
ears  and  gazing  critically  into  his  intelligent  eyes ; 
"had  I  better  help  thet  feller— or  not  ?" 

Aulus  wagged  his  tail  and  looked  interested.  All 
at  once  he  raised  his  head,  and  bayed  loud  and  deep 
with  a  sharp  recoil,  as  if  he  stood  in  awe  of  his  own 
vocal  efforts.  Apparently  this  was  emphatic  advice 
that  assistance  was  necessary.  Having  so  delivered 
himself,  he  was  immediately  overcome  by  a  silent 
melancholy,  in  droll  contrast  to  his  recent  animation. 

The  girl  regarded  him  anxiously. 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST.  H 

"Thar  !  I  told  you  so,  old  boy  ;  if  you  will  insist 
on  exercisin'  thet  awful  big  mouth  o'  yours,  thet  bite 
the  old  badger  give  ye  yesterday  '11  never  get  well — 
never  in  this  world,  sir !  Hurt  you  tongue,  didn't 
it  ?  Knew  it  would  !  My  friend,"  she  added,  with 
a  considerate  gravity  that  was  touching,  stroking  his 
great  neck,  "I  reckon,  on  general  principles,  you 
better  go  slow  with  your  bark." 

Yet  her  brief  colloquy  with  the  indiscreet  Aulus 
was  evidently  not  without  its  weight.  At  least  Cyn- 
thia acted  upon  it  promptly.  She  leaned  far  over  the 
cliff,  holding  on  by  the  low  branches  of  a  scarred  and 
time-beaten  hemlock.  A  sunburst  from  the  nodding 
boughs  above  fell  full  upon  her  red  gold  head  and 
shoulders. 

"  Oh,  stranger  ! " 

Her  voice  echoed  musically  down  the  rocks.  Above 
the  noise  of  the  rushing  waters,  above  the  tossing  of 
the  sighing  pines,  it  reached  the  ear  of  the  hapless  way- 
farer like  a  silver  bell.  The  man  started  and  swept 
the  sides  of  the  ravine  with  a  surprised  and  earnest 
glance.  Suddenly  his  gaze  became  fixed.  He  had 
espied  Cynthia.  To  the  unfortunate  sportsman  in 
the  gloomy  chasm,  the  bright  face  peering  so  curiously 
down  upon  him  from  its  coigne  of  vantage,  was  like 
an  inspiration  in  the  midst  of  his  distress.  His  fancy 
transfigured  her  with  all  the  graces  of  hope. 

"Hilloa!" 

The  reply  came  clearly  up  to  Cynthia.  She  put 
her  hand  to  her  mouth  to  assist  her  voice,  and  shouted 
down  a  word  of  homely  advice  : 

"Throw  them  turkeys  into  the  river  !  Don't  you 
see  thet's  what's  keepin'  you  back  ?  Make  for  the 


12  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

shore  you've  jes'  left,  and  go  down  the  bank  a  little  ! 
I'll  be  down  and  help  you  over  with  a  boat  d'rectly." 

Then  the  bright  animated  vignette  was  gone  from 
his  fascinated  eyes.  Nothing  was  left  but  the  precipi- 
tous wall  of  the  ravine,  with  its  fringing  mantle  of 
hemlock  and  pine.  As  if  in  mockery,  a  fitful  breeze 
stirred  their  pliant  boughs,  and  they  bent  toward  him 
with  a  grave  obeisance — an  ironical  acknowledgment, 
it  seemed,  of  the  favor  they  had  just  permitted.  It 
was  as  though  the  very  genius  of  those  piny  heights 
had  ventured  to  address  him,  and  then  withdrawn, 
embarrassed  and  abashed. 

The  man  on  the  rock  remained  for  a  few  moments 
gazing  upward.  Possibly  his  thoughts  had  something 
of  this  suggestion,  lie  smiled,  at  any  rate,  with  a 
frank  good  humor  that  threw  a  genial  light  upon 
strong  features,  bronzed  on  forehead  and  cheek  by  ex- 
posure, and  partially  hidden  beneath  a  light,  curling 
beard,  more  carefully  trimmed  than  usual  on  the 
frontier.  Although  begrimed  and  generally  disordered 
from  his  recent  contact  with  the  river's  bed,  there  was 
much  about  his  dress  to  indicate  the  gentleman.  He 
wore  knee-boots,  well  made  and  of  modern  fashion. 
His  jaunty  hunting-jacket  had  a  certain  cut  and  fin- 
ish— the  metal  buttons  being  embossed  with  trophies 
of  the  chase.  The  hat  upon  his  head  was  new  and  of 
an  excellent  quality  of  felt.  What  was  more  unusual, 
it  was  becoming,  and  seemed  in  keeping  with  the  ath- 
letic build,  the  manly  face  and  bearing  of  the  figure  it 
surmounted.  The  gun  he  carried  was  breech-loading 
and  double-barreled.  A  cameo  ring  graced  the  hand 
that  held  it.  Altogether  he  looked  the  picture  of  a 
comfortable  ranchman,  overtaken  by  embarrassing  cir- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  13 

cumstances  ;  in  need  of  nothing  so  much  as  a  warm 
fireside  and  a  dash  here  and  there  of  soap  and  water. 

Such  was  probably  his  own  opinion ;  for,  after  a 
few  moments'  hesitation,  he  acted  with  promptness 
and  dispatch.  He  cast  the  two  turkeys  into  the 
stream,  hardly  stopping  to  watch  them  as  they  were 
borne  away  on  the  rapid  current,  to  float  to  some 
vantage-point  below  him.  Then  he  looked  hurriedly 
around  a  second,  shivered  a  little,  pushed  his  wretched 
dog  off  the  rock  into  the  water,  and,  quite  indifferent 
to  the  pitiful  yelp  with  which  the  favor  was  received, 
abruptly  followed  the  animal.  Alternately  wading 
and  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  both  gained  the  shore 
— the  dog  immediately  shaking  himself  and  dispensing 
a  gratuitous  shower  that  effectually  drenched  his  mas- 
ter where  the  river  had  forborne.  Having  thus  rudely 
reciprocated  previous  kindnesses,  he  shrunk  at  once 
into  an  abject  and  shivering  spectacle  of  woe,  with  an 
unconsciousness  of  wrong-doing,  as  sublime  as  it  was 
dog-like. 

The  man  recoiled,  opened  his  mouth,  as  if  in 
angry  protest,  abandoned  the  idea  with  grimness, 
and  then  looked  wrathfully  around  for  a  stone,  as 
more  direct  and  persuasive  in  canine  logic.  Finding, 
as  usual  in  such  emergencies,  that  missiles  were  not 
available,  and  that  he  was  confronted  by  bowlders  and 
tree-trunks  only,  he  abandoned  a  temporary  impulse 
to  personate  Ajax,  and  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 
The  dog,  a  handsome  shepherd,  which  had  mean- 
while awaited  dissolution  with  pathetic  resignation, 
took  courage  at  once,  and  thankfully  wagged  a  drip- 
ping tail  that  distributed  a  watery  benediction  upon 
the  surrounding  rocks.  Then  he  was  apparently 


14  A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

rendered  delirious  by  the  prospect  of  further  advance 
dry-shod,  and  became  a  frolicsome  nuisance,  demon- 
strative, unduly  familiar,  and  generally  unbearable. 
The  man  interposed  a  few  kicks  of  his  heavy  boot  by 
way  of  commentary  upon  this  obtrusive  pleasantry, 
which  was  appreciated  and  had  a  salutary  effect. 

But  here  both  were  surprised  in  their  diversions 
by  a  loud  call  down  the  river — that  indescribable 
vocal  effort  which  indicates  a  search.  The  man  re- 
called himself,  as  if  with  regret  for  his  forgetfulness, 
and  hurried  away  over  the  rocks  along  the  shore, 
closely  followed  by  his  gamboling  dog. 


II. 


CYNTHIA  awaited  the  stranger.  She  was  seated 
in  a  flat-bottomed  boat  at  a  wide  bend  of  the  river, 
where  the  water  that  raged  above  dimpled  past  her 
in  sullen  eddies.  She  had  but  lately  rowed  across, 
and  the  oars,  thrown  carelessly  down,  were  beaded 
and  dripping.  With  maiden  recklessness,  she  had 
beached  the  little  craft  high  and  dry  upon  the  rocks. 

Still  in  no  sense  discomposed  by  the  shock  of 
landing,  and  entirely  serene  as  to  possible  damage 
to  the  boat  from  the  recent  collision,  she  sat  quietly 
in  the  stern,  her  hands  crossed  in  her  lap,  but  her 
alert  eyes  glancing  eagerly  up  and  down  the  bank 
in  expectation.  Evidently  the  approaching  meeting 
had  constrained  her  to  greater  formality  in  dress  than 
usual,  for  she  had  donned  the  unfortunate  hat.  It 
now  proTed  to  be  simply  a  soft  felt,  the  brim  of 
which  had  been  caught  up  at  one  side  and  garnished 
with  a  ribbon  or  two,  and  the  wing  already  men- 
tioned. A  poor  substitute  in  feminine  eyes,  doubt- 
less, for  the  exquisite  follies  of  civilization,  but  worn 
amid  her  present  surroundings  with  a  picturesqueness 
and  dash  that  were  not  without  their  charm.  Beyond 
her  the  dark  river,  flowing  with  its  slow  but  irre- 
sistible current,  swept  calmly  on  its  way.  The  faint 


16  A  NYMPH   OF   THE   WEST. 

green  of  trees  upon  the  farther  bank,  the  sharp  out- 
lines of  rock  and  bowlder,  framed  her  graceful  figure 
against  a  rugged  background.  The  noise  of  the  wa- 
ters above  came  to  her  ear  but  faintly.  High  over  her 
head  a  red-shafted  flicker,  tapping  monotonously  upon 
a  withered  limb,  accented  the  lonely  stillness  of  the 
ravine ;  while  at  intervals  a  sharp  yelp  of  despair 
drifted  across  the  river  where  the  abandoned  Aulus, 
distinctly  discernible  in  the  dim  light,  mounted 
guard  at  the  boat-landing  and  bewailed  her  absence. 

The  girl  sighed  regretfully.  She  waved  her  hand 
from  the  boat  in  reassurance  to  the  faithful  animal. 

"Keep  quiet,  old  man  !  I'm  comin'  back  d'rect- 
ly  !  "  she  shouted. 

But  her  reflections  were  less  amiable. 

"  I  reckon  thet  chap  allows  me  to  be  pretty  ac- 
commodatin',  waiting  to  ferry  him  over  till  nigh  onto 
sundown.  P'raps  he  thinks  it's  my  reg'lar  business 
rowin'  half-drownded  men  and  wet  dogs  across  the 
Colorado.  P'raps,"  she  continued,  glancing  down  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat  where  the  dripping  bodies  of 
the  turkeys  she  had  picked  up  on  the  way  over  were 
lying — "p'raps he  reckons  it's  pleasant  entertainment 
haulin'  his  game  into  the  boat  and  gettin'  soaked  into 
the  bargain.  I  wonder  now,  naturally,  if  thet's  his 
opinion." 

But  here  a  mournful  succession  of  bays  and  howls 
from  the  aggrieved  Aulus  interrupted  her  medita- 
tions. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  impatiently  seizing  an  oar, 
as  if  to  push  the  boat  off  and  recross  the  river.  A 
brief  moment  she  stood  thus  erect,  her  blue  eyes  flash- 
ing, the  indignant  blood  mantling  her  cheek,  as  she 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  17 

placed  the  blade  of  the  oar  upon  a  neighboring  rock 
and  threw  the  whole  weight  of  her  lithe  body  upon  it. 
But  her  efforts  were  futile.  The  unwieldy  scow  re- 
mained fixed  and  immovable.  Then  there  was  a  sharp 
clatter  among  the  rocks,  the  underbrush  upon  the 
bank  parted  suddenly,  and  the  dilatory  stranger,  fol- 
lowed by  his  effusive  dog,  stood  revealed  before  her 
eyes.  He  stopped  abruptly,  smiled,  and,  dropping 
the  butt  of  his  gun  to  the  ground,  leaned  upon  it  with 
both  hands  upon  the  muzzle.  The  dog,  evidently 
surprised  at  the  sudden  meeting,  sat  down  at  once 
upon  his  haunches,  and,  with  panting  jaws,  appeared 
to  be  including  in  one  tremendous  grin  the  whole  en- 
counter and  the  afternoon's  incidents. 

Thus  surprised,  Cynthia's  resolution  vanished  be- 
fore that  charming  embarrassment  which  sometimes 
overtakes  her  sex.  She  stood  a  moment  irresolute, 
surveying  the  easy  self-possession  of  the  man  before 
her ;  the  next,  the  oar,  with  a  shower  of  spray, 
dropped  awkwardly  from  her  nervous  grasp  into  the 
stream.  Eeckless  of  the  effect  of  this  accident  upon 
her  future  rowing,  she  was  immediately  overcome  with 
solicitude  for  her  personal  appearance,  attempted  to 
adjust  a  straggling  lock  of  hair,  and,  finally,  catching 
up  her  fallen  hat  and  setting  it  quickly  on  her  head, 
sat  down,  a  very  bewitching  picture  of  confusion,  and 
yet  not  without  an  effort  to  assert  herself  that  only 
increased  her  discomfiture. 

The  man  looked  amused,  but  straightway  acted 
with  the  decision  of  a  frontiersman.  He  glanced  at 
the  floating  oar.  Then  he  stepped  quickly  forward, 
placed  his  gun  in  the  boat,  and,  lifting  the  bow  clear 
of  the  rocks  by  sheer  strength,  shoved  it  off  into  the 


18  A  NYMPH  OF  TUB  WEST. 

current,  stepping  in  adroitly  as  he  did  so.  His  dog, 
with  the  imitative  faculty  of  his  kind,  attempted  to 
follow  suit,  but,  the  force  of  the  launching  being  con- 
siderable, only  succeeded  in  catching  one  foot  on  the 
gunwale,  where  he  hung  a  miserable  second,  until, 
falling  in  with  a  loud  splash,  he  began  at  once  to 
swim  after  the  boat,  with  the  usual  whines  of  distress. 

Strangely  enough,  it  needed  this  pitiful  incident 
to  restore  Cynthia  to  her  natural  composure.  With 
her  affection  for  dumb  animals  her  assurance  returned. 
She  leaned  forward  and  glanced  boldly  up  at  the 
stranger.  He  was  standing  erect,  using  the  remain- 
ing oar  as  a  paddle,  and  urging  the  boat  swiftly  in 
pursuit  of  the  lost  one,  which,  already  in  the  sweep 
of  the  current,  was  drifting  rapidly  away. 

"  Don't  you  reckon  you  better  haul  thet  poor  pup 
in,  jes' naturally  ?"  she  inquired,  fixing  her  critical 
eyes  upon  him. 

The  man  glanced  at  her  in  amazement,  and  burst 
into  a  ringing  laugh. 

"Certainly,  if  you  say  so,"  he  said,  good-natured- 
ly, arresting  his  oar.  "  But  to  lift  him.  in  now  means 
a  shower-bath  for  both  of  us.  It's  a  neat  little  way 
with  him  in  return  for  such  favors,"  he  added,  with 
pardonable  irony,  in  view  of  his  recent  experience. 
"  However,  I  can  stand  it,"  glancing  down  at  his 
dripping  boots  and  trousers;  "but  I  thought  you'd 
object,  you  sec." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  me,"  returned  Cynthia, 
frankly.  "  Them  turkeys  settled  thet ! "  She  paused, 
and  whipped  her  bespattered  skirt  about  her  pretty 
ankles  by  way  of  comment.  Then,  with  a  toss  of  her 
head,  she  went  on  : 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  19 

"I  reckon  thet  gobbler'll  weigh  nigh  onto  twenty- 
five  pounds.  I  had  all  I  could  swing  to.  It  was  nip 
and  tuck  for  a  while  whether  he'd  pull  me  in  or  I  him, 
but—/  beat ! " 

She  laughed,  and  touched  the  great  turkey  with 
her  foot,  as  she  exulted  over  her  exploit  in  girlish 
triumph. 

Her  companion,  having  his  attention  for  the  first 
time  attracted  to  the  recovery  of  his  game  in  this  di- 
rect fashion,  thanked  her  warmly,  and  applauded  her 
achievement.  His  praise  was  received  with  apparent 
gratification,  and  a  sudden  revelation  of  brilliant 
teeth  and  becoming  dimples. 

Meanwhile  the  struggling  dog  had  overtaken  the 
drifting  boat,  and  was  making  impotent  efforts  to 
clamber  in,  falling  back  repeatedly,  with  agonized 
whining. 

The  girl  sprang  forward  suddenly  and  caught 
him  by  the  collar.  She  attempted  to  lift  him  in 
bodily,  but  without  success.  With  her  hand  still 
upon  the  leathern  strap,  she  turned  impatiently  to 
the  stranger : 

"Are  you  going  to  stand  there,  as  if  you  was 
moonstruck,  and  let  your  poor  dog  drown — natural- 
ly ?  "  she  inquired. 

Thus  besought,  the  man  stooped  down,  and,  with- 
out more  ado,  lifted  the  dog  into  the  boat,  receiving 
at  once  the  customary  tribute.  It  was  delivered,  on 
the  present  occasion,  with  a  frankness  and  devotion 
to  detail  that  made  it  noteworthy.  In  addition  to 
drenching  the  two  in  the  boat,  it  rendered  occupancy 
of  the  seats  unpleasant,  and  boating  an  actual  hard- 
ship. 


20  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

During  this  animated  cascade,  Cynthia  covered 
her  face  with  her  hat  and  shook  with  laughter.  The 
man  turned  his  hack  upon  his  dog  with  mani- 
fest disgust.  As  soon  as  it  was  safe  to  do  so,  he 
faced  about  and  regarded  Cynthia  with  grim  amuse- 
ment. 

"He  did  right  smart,  didn't  he?"  she  inquired, 
looking  up  brightly  at  him,  her  eyes  still  dancing 
with  her  recent  merriment. 

"For  an  ordinary  dog,"  replied  her  companion, 
quietly,  "a  modest,  unobtrusive,  unassuming  brute,  I 
should  think  he  did.  Of  course,  if  he  has  any  ambi- 
tion of  becoming  a  water-spout — any  little  ungratified 
longings  in  that  direction  which  he  may  have  hitherto 
concealed  from  me  —  I  refrain  from  expressing  an 
opinion." 

Much  of  this  last  speech  was  necessarily  lost  upon 
Cynthia.  Yet,  while  a  trifle  overawed  by  the  fluency 
of  her  companion,  she  realized,  in  a  general  way,  that 
it  was  ironical,  and  reciprocated  his  sentiments.  The 
smile  that  still  lingered  in  her  roguish  eyes  vanished 
as  she  concealed  her  ignorance  by  an  emphatic  agree- 
ment. 

"  I  reckon  so,"  she  said,  quickly.  Then,  casting  a 
sudden  glance  down  the  river — "Don't  you  reckon 
there'd  be  more  sense  in  gettin'  thet  oar,  than  jes' 
wastin'  daylight  talkin'  about  your  dog?" 

The  brusqueness  of  this  rebuke  was  lessened  by  a 
quiver  of  mirth  that  twitched  the  corners  of  her  rosy 
mouth  and  flashed  from  her  mischievous  eyes.  The 
man  looked  at  her  searchingly  and  with  a  grave  sur- 
prise at  her  abruptness.  "Without  a  word  he  turned 
the  boat  again  into  the  current,  and  began  to  paddle 


A  NYMPft   OF   THE  WEST.  21 

with  a  rapidity  that  seemed  an  apology  for  his  recent 
negligence. 

Until  the  oar  had  been  recovered,  and  they  were 
rowing  back  against  the  sullen  current,  the  silence 
that  had  fallen  between  them  both  had  been  in 
marked  contrast  to  their  previous  merriment.  This 
increased  so  manifestly  as  they  proceeded,  that  Cynthia 
began  to  be  distressed. 

The  sun  no  longer  visited  the  river  in  occasional 
shafts  and  stray  glimpses.  It  was  sinking  below  the 
wooded  heights.  The  afternoon  was  declining.  A 
dim  twilight  seemed  to  fall  from  above,  and  dark 
shadows  were  gathering  along  the  shore.  A  vague 
chill  crept  over  the  river.  The  stranger  shivered  and 
suddenly  addressed  her.  It  brought  a  certain  relief 
to  Cynthia. 

"  Where  do  you  live,  young  lady  ?  " 

The  girl  experienced  a  delicious  tremor  at  this 
form  of  address.  His  voice  was  low  and  deep,  and 
there  was  a  quiet  dignity  about  his  manner. 

"Up  at  the  ranch — back  of  the  bluff." 

"Whose  ranch?" 

"Father's." 

"And  his  name  ?" 

"Dallas — Alcides  Dallas,  but  they  call  him  'Al' 
for  short — that  is,  some  do.  But  others  call  him 
'Allsides' —  Buck  says  it's  'cause  he's  uncertain  in 
his  votin'.  They  can't  allers  count  on  him  for  the 
Democratic  ticket.  My  name's  Cynthia." 

Her  companion,  having  already  experienced  the 
divine  despair  of  the  average  Eepublican  in  Texas, 
was  not  wanting  in  his  appreciation  of  the  woes  of 
the  elder  Dallas.  Howbeit,  he  made  no  political 


22  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

comment  beyond  a  grave  lifting  of  the  eyebrows. 
But  the  name  haunted  him. 

"  Cynthia,"  he  said,  repeating  it  slowly — "  Cynthia 
Dallas.  How  do  you  get  to  your  ranch,  Miss  Cyn- 
thia?" 

"Not  Miscynthia — but  plain  Cynthia,"  she  said; 
"or  'Cynthy,'  as  father  says,  but  I  hate  that.  You 
can  call  me  Cynthia." 

Her  companion  looked  up  with  a  smile  as  he  noted 
the  privilege  conveyed  by  her  emphasis. 

"Thanks,"  he  said,  simply.  "Well,  Cynthia,  do 
you  suppose  your  father  has  any  room  at  his  ranch 
for  a  miserable,  tired,  half-drowned  hunter — a  'ten- 
der-foot '  we'd  better  call  him;  for  he  was  fool  enough 
to  let  his  horse  walk  off  and  leave  him  on  the  bald 
prairie  while  he  was  looking  up  a  turkey-roost  ?" 

Cynthia's  curiosity  and  sympathy  were  awakened 
at  once. 

"  Your  pony  walked  off  and  left  you,  did  he  ? 
Well,  now  ! "  She  laughed.  Then,  as  her  frontier 
instincts  asserted  themselves,  there  was  a  little  dis- 
dain in  her  manner  as  she  inquired,  "Can't  you  tie 
the  cow-boy's  hitch  ?  " 

Her  companion  felt  the  implied  slur,  for  he  colored 
visibly  under  his  beard. 

"I  must  have  been  careless,  I  suppose,  or  else  the 
knot  slipped,"  he  replied,  apologetically.  "At  any 
rate,  that's  the  state  of  the  case  :  no  horse  ;  rider  wet, 
tired,  and  hungry  ;  dog  ditto.  Do  you  suppose  your 
father  can  give  shelter  for  the  night  to  two  tramps  ?  " 

"I  reckon,"  said  the  girl,  simply.  She  stooped 
to  pat  the  dog's  wet  head  compassionately.  "  Poor 
'  Ditto ' ! "  she  murmured.  Then,  looking  up  quickly 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  23 

with  a  mischievous  glance,  "  What's  the  name  of  the 
other  tramp  ?  " 

"  He  calls  himself  Henry  Bruce  for  want  of  a  bet- 
ter, and  he  hails  from  the  *  Mesquite  Valley  Banch,' 
of  which  you  may  have  heard,"  returned  her  com- 
panion, showing  by  a  humorous  twinkle  that  her  sar- 
casm was  appreciated. 

"  The  *  Mesquite  Valley  Eanch  ! '  "  exclaimed  Cyn- 
thia, with  an  astonishment  of  manner  that  she  did 
not  attempt  to  conceal.  "  Ye  don't  say  !  Well, 
Henry  Bruce,  I  don't  reckon  you'll  have  any  call  to 
complain  of  the  treatment  you'll  get  from  father. 
Barrin'  the  fact  that  a  stray  steer  o'  yours  gets  into 
our  corn-bin  now  and  then,  he  hasn't  anything  to 
complain  of." 

All  at  once  her  thoughts  reverted  to  the  ranch- 
man's straying  horse.  Dumb  animals  possessed  a 
peculiar  interest  for  Cynthia. 

"Won't  that  poor  pony  of  yours  get  a  whalin', 
naturally?"  she  inquired.  "I  wonder  where  he  is 
now?" 

"I  suppose  his  present  address  is  '  Texas — On  the 
Wing,'"  replied  her  companion,  with  gravity.  "On 
general  principles,  yes,  I  think  I  may  safely  say  he'll 
have  an  intelligent  idea  later  of  the  capacity  of  a 
quirt.  But  I  shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  consider 
all  that,  and  possibly  to  get  over  my  temper  before  I 
see  him  again.  Meanwhile,"  he  added,  with  a  shrug 
of  his  broad,  shoulders,  "I'm  feeling  a  little  chilly, 
and  very  much  in  need  of  dry  clothing.  Excuse  me, 
Cynthia,  but  if  you  could  hurry  matters  a  little,  and 
get  me  home,  it  would  be  better  for  all  concerned." 

The  girl  responded  with  promptness  to  this  appeal. 


24:  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  I  reckon  you're  right,"  she  said,  quickly,  and 
with  a  sudden  blush  that  was  very  becoming.  "  It's 
mighty  slack  in  me  to  be  so  careless,  sittin'  here 
botherin'  you  with  questions,  and  you  freezing  to 
death.  Hand  me  thet  paddle." 

She  pointed  out  a  small  oar  that  had  hitherto 
lain  unperceived  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

"Now,  if  you'll  row  for  all  you're  worth  against 
this  current,  I'll  have  you  at  the  landing  in  a  jiffy. 
We're  almost  there,  anyhow." 

So  saying,  she  put  the  paddle  behind  her,  and, 
with  a  dexterous  sweep  of  it,  turned  the  boat's  head 
to  the  shore.  A  large,  flat  rock  in  a  sheltered  nook, 
near  which  several  stakes  had  been  driven  into  the 
river's  bed,  was  visible  a  short  distance  ahead.  The 
expectant  "Aulus"— a  solemn  sentinel  in  the  shadow 
of  the  great  bowlders  that  rose  behind  and  about  him 
— awaited  them  with  nervous  impatience.  It  was 
the  landing-place. 

A  few  strokes  of  oar  and  paddle  brought  them 
there.  From  the  twilight  of  the  river  the  boat  passed 
with  a  sharp,  grating  sound  into  the  gloom  of  the 
precipitous  bank.  Henry  Bruce  stepped  forward  with 
the  rope  in  his  hand  and  fastened  it  firmly.  But 
hardly  had  the  bow  touched  the  rock,  when  the  clumsy 
hound  sprang  into  the  scow,  and,  after  greeting  his 
mistress  with  uncouth  caresses,  began  a  jealous  in- 
spection of  the  stranger's  dog.  The  result  was  ap- 
parently unsatisfactory,  for  he  uttered  a  low  growl, 
and  the  hair  upon  his  back  and  neck  began  to  bristle. 

"Down,  Aulus!"  cried  the  girl,  tapping  him 
smartly  with  the  paddle.  "Aren't  you  ashamed  of 
yourself,  sir  ?  " 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  25 

The  hound  subsided,  and  became  abject  at  once. 
Bruce  had  already  taken  a  strap  from  his  pocket,  and, 
after  securing  the  turkeys'  legs  together,  thrown  the 
heavy  birds  across  his  shoulder.  He  was  waiting  to 
assist  her.  Cynthia  stooped,  and  quite  unaffectedly 
handed  him  his  gun,  which  he  had  for  the  moment 
forgotten.  There  was  something  Amazonian  in  the 
gesture.  The  gentleman  received  it  with  grave  court- 
esy ;  then  he  took  the  plump  little  hand  which  she 
extended  to  him  frankly,  and  she  leaped  lightly  upon 
the  rock,  followed  by  her  attendant  dogs.  It  was  as 
if  Diana,  the  huntress,  were  returning  from  an  aquat- 
ic excursion. 

A  steep,  winding  path,  skirting  rock  and  bowlder, 
led  to  the  heights  above.  The  girl  at  once  took  the 
lead,  calling  to  her  companion  to  follow  her.  She 
climbed  quickly  up  the  ascent  with  a  practiced  ease 
that  showed  her  familiarity  with  her  surroundings. 
The  very  dogs  were  scarcely  less  agile.  Here  and 
there  she  stopped,  flushed  and  panting  from  her 
efforts,  to  regard  Bruce  from  some  superior  point, 
and  to  instruct  him  in  his  future  progress.  Some- 
times she  would  clasp  the  sweeping  boughs  of  an  ad- 
venturous cedar,  and,  held  thus  against  the  curtain 
of  green  overhead,  smile  back  at  him  with  roguish 
encouragement.  There  was  something  in  this  friend- 
ly espionage  that  was  stimulating  to  the  sportsman. 
He  felt  the  inferiority  of  his  sex  under  circumstances 
where  it  should  have  been  triumphant.  He  redoubled 
his  exertions  among  the  slippery  stones  and  roots, 
but,  encumbered  as  he  was  with  his  gun  and  the 
heavy  game,  his  progress  was  necessarily  slow.  At 
length,  out  of  breath  and  quite  exhausted  with  his 


20  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

hard  climbing,  he  reached  the  elevated  plateau.  The 
girl  was  awaiting  him. 

As  he  stepped  out  from  the  dense  fringe  of  pine 
and  hemlock  that  bordered  the  river,  the  level  rays  of 
the  declining  sun  at  first  dazzled  him.  It  was  like 
emerging  from  some  twilight  cloister  into  the  open 
day.  A  small  cotton-field,  with  shreds  of  the  woolly 
crop  still  clinging  to  the  dry  and  withered  plants, 
stretched  before  him  in  dull  monotony.  Beyond  it, 
amid  a  grove  of  great  pecans  that  formed  a  favorable 
barrier  against  unwelcome  northers,  stood  a  small 
stone  house,  with  its  tall  adobe  chimney.  Smoke 
was  curling  from  the  latter,  bringing  with  it  sugges- 
tions of  comfort  that  appealed  to  the  wayfarer.  The 
sun  was  going  down — a  great  globe  of  fire — behind 
the  low  hills  to  the  west.  There  were  the  clanking 
of  stock-bells  upon  the  air,  the  bleating  of  sheep,  and 
other  sounds  which — albeit  unmelodious  in  them- 
selves— are  not  without  their  compensations  upon  the 
frontier.  The  young  man  turned  to  Cynthia. 

She  was  seated  on  a  fallen  tree,  engaged  in  loosing 
the  antelope  which  she  had  tethered  to  one  of  the 
branches  before  descending  the  cliff.  The  fawn,  rec- 
ognizing an  addition  to  the  party  in  the  ranchman's 
dog,  was  timid  and  wary.  She  finally  succeeded  in 
reassuring  it  somewhat,  and  with  her  pet  tripping 
daintily  on  before  and  tugging  at  the  confining  rope, 
proceeded.  Her  companion  quietly  took  his  place  at 
her  side. 

"Something  of  a  scramble,  wasn't  it?"  Cynthia 
inquired,  glancing  at  him  slyly  from  under  her  droop- 
ing lashes,  not  without  a  feminine  appreciation  of  his 
splendid  height. 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST.  27 

Bruce  acquiesced,  shifting  his  gun  from  his  bur- 
dened shoulder  to  a  more  comfortable  position.  She 
regarded  him  a  moment  critically. 

"You're  feelin'  pretty  well  tuckered  now,  ain't 
you  ?  "  she  finally  said,  as  the  result  of  this  inspec- 
tion. 

The  young  man  met  this  direct  query  with  the 
customary  untruth  of  suffering  manhood  under  simi- 
lar circumstances. 

"  Land ! "  said  Cynthia,  waving  a  diminutive 
hand  in  protest;  "thet  climb  isn't  a  circumstance. 
I  can  take  you  to  a  hundred  worse  places  than  thet, 
right  here  on  this  river." 

"  Not  with  these  turkeys  on  my  back,  if  /  know 
it,"  he  remonstrated. 

The  girl  laughed  at  the  suggestion. 

They  had  passed  through  a  thorny  chaparral,  and 
were  close  upon  the  ranch.  The  sound  of  a  violin, 
playing  a  mournful  and  lugubrious  air,  at  times  burst- 
ing into  sudden  erratic  strains,  with  fitful  minors 
and  jarring  discords,  and  accompanied  with  violent 
sawing  and  scraping  of  the  instrument,  reached  them 
audibly.  The  effect  was  weird  and  indescribable. 

"Are  you  married  ?"  Cynthia  inquired  abruptly, 
stopping  short  in  the  way  and  leveling  her  blue  eyes 
full  upon  him  with  steadfast  scrutiny. 

The  unexpectedness  of  this  inquiry  was  too  much 
for  the  sportsman.  He  threw  back  his  head  and 
shouted  his  amusement.  The  girl  appeared  relieved 
at  the  action. 

"I  reckon  you  ain't,"  she  said  at  length.  "  You 
couldn't  laugh  like  thet,  I  s'pose,  if  you  were.  Father 
says  that  tune  he's  a-playin'  is  'Married  Life.'  1 


28  A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

think  it's  dreadful.  It's  one  of  his  own,  and  he  says 
it's  the  result  of  experience.  I  thought,  perhaps,  I'd 
better  give  you  warnin'.  Come  in  now  and  I'll  make 
you  acquainted." 

She  lifted  the  latch  of  a  rude  gate,  and  together 
they  passed  into  the  ranch  inclosure. 


III. 


AN  old  man,  with  long,  gray  hair  and  unkempt 
beard,  was  seated  on  the  door-stone  of  the  ranch,  play- 
ing a  violin.  A  tall,  muscular  young  fellow  lounged 
against  a  neighboring  live-oak,  listening  and  placidly 
smoking.  Lost  in  the  rendering  of  his  dismal  music, 
the  face  of  the  performer  was  vacant  and  rapt.  His 
eyes  had  an  uncertain  wandering  gleam,  and  he  bent 
his  chin  upon  the  instrument  and  hugged  it  close  to 
him  with  long  sweeps  of  his  bow,  as  though  intent 
upon  the  pursuit  of  some  elusive  melody  that  he 
feared  might  escape  him.  The  nimble  fingers  of  his 
left  hand  tracked  the  wandering  strains  up  and  down 
the  key-board,  and  his  right  seemed  to  smite  them 
into  piteous  remonstrance.  His  knees  were  pressed 
close  together,  and  one  foot  rested  on  the  other,  the 
toes  turned  inward,  with  a  humorous  suggestion  that 
his  musical  efforts  were  demoralizing  his  lower  limbs. 
Near  these  erratic  feet  a  monstrous  river  cat-fish, 
recently  caught  and  thrown  carelessly  down,  stretched 
its  unwieldy  length. 

He  did  not  cease  playing  as  Cynthia  and  Bruce 
approached,  but,  quite  unconscious  of  their  presence, 
continued  waking  the  echoes  of  the  gathering  twi- 
light with  his  fiendish  music.  His  companion  greeted 
the  girl  with  a  friendly  nod,  and,  quickly  detaching 


30  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

himself  from  the  tree,  stepped  toward  her.  The 
movement  brought  the  fiddler  to  himself,  who,  still 
playing,  turned  his  body  half  round,  and  as  soon  as 
his  eyes  rested  upon  the  stranger,  stopped  abruptly, 
the  instrument  giving  an  impatient  quaver  as  the  bow 
fell  away  from,  the  strings.  He  stared  blankly  at 
Cynthia,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Mr.  Henry  Bruce,  father,  of  the  '  Mesquite 
Valley  Kanch/"  said  his  daughter,  with  a  sudden 
blush.  "He's  lost  his  pony,  fell  in  the  river,  and 
wants  to  know  if  you  can  take  care  of  him.  over- 
night." 

The  old  man  stared  again,  laid  down  his  bow  and 
fiddle  upon  the  door-stone,  extended  a  heavy  hand, 
long-fingered  and  big-knuckled,  to  Bruce,  and,  after 
closing  upon  the  latter's  fingers  and  lifting  his  arm 
as  if  it  had  been  a  pump-handle,  restored  both  to  him 
a  trifle  maimed,  and  without  uttering  a  word.  The 
same  formality  was  then  gone  through  with  the 
younger  individual,  whom  Cynthia  addressed  as  Buck 
Jerrold.  This  gentleman  managed  to  ejaculate 
"Howdy  ?"  in  a  tone  as  mechanical  as  the  previous 
gesture. 

Meanwhile  old  Dallas  had  straightened  out  his 
dangerously  involved  legs,  crossed  them,  and,  with  his 
hands  clasped  over  his  knees,  was  gazing  up  into  his 
guest's  face  with  a  puzzled  gravity  that  began  to  be 
embarrassing. 

"Who  be  ye  ?"  he  finally  said,  with  a  doubtful 
look,  putting  his  hand  to  his  ear,  as  if  he  were 
listening  from  a  remote  locality.  "  Whar  did  ye  say 
ye  kem  from  ?  " 

Bruce  was  about  to  reply,  when  Cynthia  inter- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  31 

posed  and  repeated  her  previous  remark  more  em- 
phatically. "  He's  been  playin',  ye  see  ;  he  gets  so 
far  over  yonder  thet  it  takes  him  a  long  time  to  get 
back,"  she  explained. 

"Been — in — the — river — and — lost — his — horse  !  " 
the  elder  Dallas  finally  ejaculated,  slowly,  as  if  a  light 
were  breaking  in  upon  him.  Then  he  rubbed  his 
hands  together  and  chuckled  softly  to  himself,  turn- 
ing his  head  to  one  side,  and  closing  his  eyes,  as  if 
there  was  something  very  amusing  in  the  recollection. 

"  Wai,  wal !  ef  this  yer  State  ain't  gettin'  swamped 
with  tender-foots,  my  name  ain't  Alcides  !  Lost  his 
boss — let  it  walk  off  and  leave  him  ! "  he  repeated, 
chuckling  again. — "  Ye  might  build  up  a  bustin'  fire 
in  that  thar  grate,  Buck,  and  thaw  him  out,  I  reck- 
on," pointing  to  the  open  hearth  within.  "Ye  kin 
do  that  much." 

Bruce,  who  had  listened  to  the  commentary  of  the 
elder  Dallas  upon  his  mishap  with  outward  impertur- 
bability, but  inward  impatience,  hereupon  attempted 
to  say  something  in  his  own  defense,  when  Cynthia 
broke  in  : 

"Pretty  near  as  bad  a  case,  father,  as  when  old 
'  Jule '  went  off  and  left  you  down  at  the  '  Live-oak 
Water-hole,'  the  time  you  got  down  to  doctor  thet  old 
ewe  that  was  snake-bit — aren't  it  ?"  she  commented, 
coming  bravely  to  the  rescue. 

"It's  gettin'  dark,"  said  the  old  man,  rising  ab- 
ruptly, and  with  a  sudden  cracking  of  his  rheumatic 
joints — "it's  gettin'  dark,  and  I  reckon  we  better  go 
in."  He  stooped  and  made  a  feeble  clutch  for  his  re- 
linquished fiddle,  but  his  halting  knees  were  unequal 
to  the  effort,  and  Jerrold  handed  it  to  him.  He 


32  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

turned  on  the  door-step,  and  picked  a  note  or  two 
with  absent  eyes  and  a  wandering  hand. 

"  Thar  ain't  but  two  bedrooms  in  the  house,  out- 
side the  settin'-room,  and  them's  occupied,"  he  said, 
vaguely,  as  if  to  the  remote  landscape,  punctuating 
his  discourse  with  nervous  strumming  of  the  instru- 
ment. "  Ye'll  hev  to  'make  down'  with  Buck  and 
me  on  the  floor,  afore  the  fire.  Ez  for  dry  clothes, 
the  only  extrys  on  hand  at  this  ranch  is  a  buffalo- 
robe  and  a  yaller  'slicker' — ye  kin  take  yer  ch'ice. 
P'raps,  ez  it  is,  and  thar  being  a  corner  in  dry-goods, 
outside  o'  woman's  duds  and  fixins,  ye  better  let  them 
clothes  o'  yourn  dry  on  ye,  and  het  up  from  the  in- 
side. Ye  look  stout,  and  I'll  allow  ye  kin  stand  it ! 
— Cynthy,  whar's  thet  rye-whisky  the  sheriff  gin  me 
over  at  the  'barbecue '  last  week  ?  Ye  might  bring  it 
out  and  start  your  fr'end  onto  it. — Buck,  go  to  the 
wood-pile  and  fetch  an  armful  of  wood." 

So  saying,  and  without  pausing  for  a  reply,  he  at 
once  led  the  way  within,  followed  by  Bruce  and  Cyn- 
thia. A  wood-fire  burned  upon  the  ample  hearth, 
the  leaping  flames  roaring  and  crackling  up  the  great 
chimney,  and  lighting  up  the  dim  interior  with  fan- 
tastic play  of  light  and  shadow.  The  room  was  bare 
and  scantily  furnished  ;  the  ceiling  peaked,  showing 
the  joinings  and  rafters  of  the  roof.  In  the  center  of 
the  rough  floor  stood  a  long  wooden  table,  already  set 
for  the  evening  meal.  A  few  poor  prints,  recklessly 
lavish  in  coloring  and  villainously  out  of  drawing, . 
hung  upon  the  walls.  They  emphasized  the  claims 
of  various  events  and  personages  upon  a  forgetful  pos- 
terity. Conspicuous  among  these  artistic  triumphs 
were  the  "  Storming  of  the  Alamo,"  amid  such  realis- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  33 

tic  detail  of  smoke  and  flame  as  to  suggest  a  more 
fiery  locality,  and  a  captivating  portrait  of  General 
Houston,  arrayed  in  the  picturesque  glories  of  a  red 
flannel  shirt.  The  spreading  antlers  of  a  deer  graced 
the  broad  chimney-piece,  from  which  depended  a  shot- 
pouch  and  powder-horn,  one  or  two  rawhide  hopples, 
a  pair  of  large  spurs,  and  a  heavy  leathern  quirt. 
There  was  a  book-rack  at  one  end  of  the  room,  be- 
tween two  shutterless  windows,  roughly  fashioned  out 
of  Southern  pine,  and  shining  red  in  the  fire-light.  It 
contained  a  few  books  and  papers — the  scant  library 
of  the  ranch.  Below  it  stood  a  little  writing-stand, 
rudely  littered  with  paper,  pens  and  ink,  pistol-car- 
tridges, medicine-bottles,  pipes,  plugs  of  tobacco,  and 
other  incongruous  articles  heaped  in  amusing  con- 
trast. In  the  midst  of  this  picturesque  confusion 
rested  a  little  chip  work-basket,  from  which  peeped  a 
small  blue  stocking  and  two  diminutive  kid  slippers, 
with  extravagant  heels — the  latest  Texan  rendering 
of  more  stylish  absurdities  at  the  East.  A  silver- 
mounted  "Derringer" — also  a  tenant  of  the  work- 
basket — rested  confidingly  across  these  triumphs  of 
the  shoemaker's  art,  and,  from  the  singular  intimacy 
thus  permitted  with  the  belongings  of  the  owner,  sug- 
gested a  practical  turn  of  mind,  to  say  the  least.  The 
amused  eyes  of  Henry  Bruce  had  scarcely  noted  these 
inconsistencies,  when  the  work-basket  was  caught  up 
suddenly  by  the  blushing  Cynthia,  and  whisked  with 
embarrassed  haste  into  the  privacy  of  her  adjoining 
bedroom. 

She  soon  appeared  again,  and  sought  a  door  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  room,  which  gave  upon  the  neigh- 
boring kitchen.    Thence  proceeded  the  rattle  of  cook- 
3 


34  A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

ing-utensils,  and  a  savory  steam  that  appealed  to  the 
fatigued  and  hungry  sportsman.  A  few  minutes  later 
Cynthia  reappeared,  accompanied  by  an  old  negro 
woman,  turbaned  and  of  middle  age,  who  carried  a 
large  black  jug  and  a  couple  of  glasses.  This  was  the 
ebony  "Amelia,"  the  presiding  genius  of  the  myste- 
rious and  appetizing  realm  she  had  just  quitted. 

She  handed  a  tumbler  to  Bruce,  as  he  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  blazing  hearth,  exhaling  a  cloud  of 
steam  in  his  efforts  to  act  upon  the  old  man's  advice, 
and,  throwing  the  jug  over  the  hollow  of  her  elbow 
by  a  dexterous  movement  of  a  black  forefinger  slipped 
through  the  handle,  stood  ready  to  administer  the 
liquid  refreshment. 

"  Say  '  when,'  sah  ! "  she  directed,  tilting  the  liquor 
at  a  rapid  rate  into  the  proffered  glass. 

"When  !"  said  Bruce,  hastily,  glancing  at  Cyn- 
thia over  his  half-filled  tumbler. 

"  Sho  ! "  laughed  the  ebony  Amelia,  chuckling,  and 
favoring  the  young  man  with  a  dazzling  dental  dis- 
play in  her  amusement.  "  Dat  ain't  a  *  marker '  fo'  a 
young  chap  wot's  jes'  be'n  baptized  ! — Heah,  boss  ! " 
— turning  to  old  Dallas,  who  had  been  silently  regard- 
ing Bruce  and  his  protestations  against  her  generosity 
— "  show  this  gemman  wot. you  'lows  to  be  de  aberage 
Texas  'rejubenator.'  Dey  am  no  sca'city  ob  de  arti- 
cle ! " 

Alcides  Dallas  stole  a  quick  glance  at  Cynthia,  as 
she  sat  between  the  two  dogs  dozing  in  a  corner  of 
the  hearthstone,  with  one  arm  around  the  prostrate 
"Aulus,"  and  her  eyes  gazing  into  the  blazing  grate. 
Then  he  stumped  eagerly  forward. 

"  My  shoulder  bein'  a  Ice  tie  bad  to-day,  whar  I 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  35 

was  throwed  last  spring,  at  the  '  round-ups,'  "  he  re- 
marked, apologetically,  his  eyes  still  upon  the  silent 
Cynthia,  "and  thet  old  centypede-bite  of  five  year 
ago  still  a-goin'  fur  me  at  times,  and  contributiu'  to 
make  life  a  weariness  of  the  flesh,  I  reckon  a  small 
snifter  taken  under  sich  depressin'  sarcumstances 
might  operate  as  a  blessin'  in  disguise." 

He  paused  after  this  lengthy  explanation,  put  his 
tongue  in  his  cheek,  and  looked  warily  around.  There 
was  a  dead  silence.  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold,  who  had  just 
entered,  stooping  under  a  heavy  load  of  wood,  cast 
down  his  burden  upon  the  blazing  hearth,  amid  a 
shower  of  sparks,  and,  leaning  against  the  chimney- 
piece,  grinned  incredulously  as  he  listened  to  the  old 
man's  catalogue  of  his  infirmities.  Cynthia  sat  still, 
between  the  dogs,  and  said  nothing. 

"  It's  powerful  sing'lar,  Al,"  remarked  Mr.  Jer- 
rold, slowly,  rubbing  his  bearded  chin  and  pursing 
his  lips,  "  how  long  it  do  take,  natchally,  to  git  thet 
thar  centypede-pizen  out'n  a  man's  unfortunet  system 
when  wunst  he's  be'n  bit.  You  don't  seem  to  hev  no 
kind  o'  success,  altho'  you've  be'n  picklin'  ye'se'f  off 
an'  on  for  it  nigh  onto  five  years.  Thar's  Jed  Smalley, 
who  allows  thet  he  got  outside- of  a  clean  gallon  o'  Jim 
Wily's  rat-pizen  thet  time  he  sot  down  on  one  durin' 
shearin',  and  altho'  that's  ten  year  ago,  and  he's  signed 
the  pledge  sence  then,  he  allows  there's  days  now 
when  the  old  symptoms  gets  ahead  o'  him,  and  he's 
obliged  to  hobble  his  conscience  and  take  a  drink,  or 
go  clean  crazy." 

The  old  man  turned,  with  his  glass  in  his  hand, 
and  gazed  doubtfully  at  Buck  Jerrold,  as  if  to  fathom 
the  sincerity  of  his  remarks. 


36  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

"  Tliet's  so,"  he  said,  gravely.  "  Thar's  them  ez 
believes  ye  never  kin  git  over  it !  Thar's  them  ez 
thinks  it's  jest  flyin'  in  the  face  of  Providence  to  ever 
sign  the  pledge  arter  ye've  once  be'n  bit.  The  train 
of  infirmities  and  worryment  thet  an  able-bodied 
centypede  kin  let  loose  fur  evermore  on  an  uufortu- 
net  critter's  distracted  inside  is  too  harrowin'  fur 
argymint." 

But  here  the  humor  of  his  reflections  infected 
even  his  own  sepulchral  gravity,  and  the  corners  of 
his  mouth  twitched  ;  he  turned  his  back  on  Cynthia, 
permitted  Amelia  to  fill  his  glass  to  the  brim,  and 
then,  covering  it  with  his  whole  hand,  so  that  the 
amount  of  his  indulgence  was  concealed  from  his 
audience,  tossed  the  draught  off  with  surprising  facil- 
ity. He  returned  to  his  seat  apparently  refreshed. 

Cynthia  rose  at  once  with  a  sigh,  and  repairing 
to  the  closet,  returned  with  a  large  tablespoon  and  an 
ominous-looking  bottle. 

"  Now,  father,"  she  said,  standing  before  him  and 
looking  anxiously  into  his  face,  "  it's  time  to  take  the 
'  counter-irritant.'  Ef  your  shoulder  is  plaguin'  you 
again,  to-night,  you  want  your  dose.  I  s'pose  it  tastes 
about  as  bad  as  it  smells,  but  it's  only  a  minute,  you 
know,  and  it's  all  over,  and  then  we  won't  hear  any 
more  about  '  sufferin'  humanity'  the  rest  of  the  even- 
in'." 

She  poured  out  a  tablespoonful  of  the  mixture  and 
held  it  toward  him,  coaxingly. 

"  Go  'long,  now,  Cynthy  !"  ejaculated  the  old  man, 
waving  this  medicinal  favor  aside.  "  Ye  don't  reckon 
I  wanter  mix  two  kinds  o'  medicine  to  onct,  do  yer  ? 
Thar  ain't  no  sense  in  sech  work  ez  thet !  Wot  I  jes' 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  37 

took  is  kalkerlated  to  fortify  me  agin  the  linger! n' 
effects  o'  thet  thar  pizen  critter's  bite,  and  thet  Injun 
chollygog'  hez  jest  the  opposite  effect,  and  would  be 
wearin'  on  the  narves.  No,  Cynthy,  I'm  feelin'  better 
a'ready,  sis,  and  I  don't  know  ez  I  owe  my  inside 
any  partickler  grudge  to  be  depressin'  it  to  thet  ex- 
tent." 

He  turned  his  back  abruptly  upon  his  daughter 
and  her  solicitations,  and,  swinging  round  in  the 
wooden  chair  on  which  he  sat,  crossed  his  legs  and 
gazed  fixedly  into  the  blazing  coals,  with  an  expres- 
sion upon  his  withered  face  from  which  there  was  no 
appeal. 

Thus  repulsed  in  her  efforts  to  counteract  what 
she  believed  to  be  the  dangerous  tendencies  of  liquor, 
Cynthia  made  one  more  appeal. 

"  But  you  know,  father,  Dr.  Stethyscope  pre- 
scribed this  for  you  whenever  you  were  feelin'  blue 
and  out  of  spirits,"  she  pleaded,  a  pretty  trouble 
gathering  in  her  anxious  brows. 

"  Dr.  Stethyscope  is  a  crank  and  a  cussed  fool !" 
returned  the  elder  Dallas,  sharply,  still  with  averted 
back.  "  I  kin  run  my  own  inside  without  any  advice 
from  him,  I  reckon.  "Wot's  more,"  he  added,  with  a 
grin  that  disclosed  a  few  lonely  and  discolored  teeth 
in  his  upper  jaw,  "jest  at  present,  I'm  not  out  of 
sperrits." 

He  glanced  at  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold,  leaning  against 
the  chimney-piece,  and  winked  boldly,  as  if  to  clinch 
the  suggestion. 

Cynthia,  heaving  another  little  sigh,  poured  the 
contents  of  the  tablespoon  back  into  the  bottle,  and 
replaced  it  in  the  cupboard  with  an  air  of  resignation. 


38  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

She  then  returned  to  her  seat  in  the  corner  of  the 
hearth  between  the  sleeping  dogs. 

Meanwhile  Amelia  had  crossed  the  room  to  a  point 
near  the  lounging  Mr.  Jerrold,  and  stood  listening 
seriously  to  the  dialogue  between  father  and  daughter 
before  proffering  her  services  to  him.  She  now  per- 
formed the  same  gymnastic  feat  with  the  jug,  and 
extended  the  old  man's  empty  tumbler. 

"I  hai'n't  no  use  for  it,"  replied  Mr.  Jerrold, 
listlessly,  not  changing  his  attitude,  but  permitting 
his  large  gray  eyes  to  wander  in  the  direction  of 
Cynthia.  "  Never  havin'  be'n  bit  yet,  and  bein' 
favored  with  a  right  smart  appetite  and  good  works 
gin'rally,  I  kin  jest  natch'ally  run  myself  satisfactory 
without  reg'larly  firm'  up  the  machinery.  Now  and 
then,  in  a  matter  of  bizness — ef  a  man  don't  come  to 
time  over  a  hoss-trade  or  swappin'  cattle — when  the 
facts  don't,  so  to  speak,  keep  tally  with  the  argyments 
, — liquor  is  well  enough  to  bring  conviction.  It's  a 
powerful  exhorter  and  convincer  of  the  jedgment. 
Thar's  nothin'  ekel  to  it,  after  you've  hed  a  row  with 
a  feller,  and  altho'  you've  settled  it,  ye  don't  quite 
get  back  somehow  inter  the  old  groove — nothin'  that 
goes  quite  so  far  towards  puttin'  things  on  the  old 
familiar  basis.  And  they  tell  me  thet  when  a  man's 
girl  hez  gone  back  on  him,"  he  added  vaguely,  gazing 
abstractedly  at  a  point  in  the  wall  directly  over  Cyn- 
thia's downcast  head — "  when  he's  feelin'  lost  and 
strange  like,  an'  the  color  hez  jes'  dropped  out  o' 
things  natch'ally — they  tell  me  thet  then  it's  down- 
right necessary,  and  the  only  friend  you've  got  left. 
Thet's  wot  I  hear,  anyway,  comin'  from  older  men 
than  me,  and  them  as  oughter  know.  One  day  p'raps 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  39 

I  may  know  more  about  it.  But  for  ordinary  daily 
livin'  and  dyin'  I  don't  need  any  in  mine,  and  I 
reckon  I  oughter  be  glad  on't." 

Having  delivered  himself  to  this  effect,  he  glanced 
quickly  at  Cynthia  again,  and  relapsed  into  silence. 
Amelia  helped  herself  gravely  to  the  contents  of  the 
tumbler,  with  the  remark  that  she  hated  to  see  "  sech 
good  whisky  lef  like  dat  clean  out  'n  de  cold,"  and 
then  departed  abruptly  for  the  kitchen.  Cynthia 
raised  her  beautiful  eyes  to  Jerrold  and  thanked  him 
for  his  reflections  with  a  smile  so  sweet  and  engaging, 
that  Bruce,  wet  as  he  was,  set  down  his  half-filled 
glass  upon  the  mantel-shelf  as  quietly  as  possible. 
Then  a  silence  fell  upon  the  little  group — perhaps 
induced  by  the  drowsy  warmth  and  that  tendency  to 
reverie  promoted  by  a  blazing  fire.  The  snoring  of 
the  dogs,  fast  asleep  upon  the  hearth-stone,  was  heard 
distinctly  in  the  stillness. 

These  reflections  were  broken  in  upon  a  few  min- 
utes later  by  Amelia,  who  emerged  from  the  kitchen, 
carrying  a  big  dish  of  fried  cat-fish  and  a  steaming 
coffee-pot  which  she  placed  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
Cynthia  sprang  up  at  once,  and  taking  from  the 
mantel-shelf  a  large  metal  lamp,  began  to  wind  it  up 
with  a  key  like  a  clock.  She  struck  a  match  and 
ignited  the  wick,  placing  the  lamp  in  turn  upon  the 
table.  The  broad,  steadfast  flame  illuminated  the 
farthest  corners  of  the  bare  room.  The  machinery 
within  made  a  loud  whirring  sound. 

"  The  ole  lamp  makes  consider'ble  fuss,  but  she 
burns  ez  well  ez  ever,"  said  the  old  man,  taking  his 
seat  at  the  festive  board  without  further  ceremony. 
"  I've  hed  thet  yer  nigh  onto  twenty  year — brought  it 


40  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

with  me  from  Caroliny  to  the  Lone  Star — it  was  one 
of  my  weddin'  presents.  Cynthy  tell  Ameelyer  to 
hurry  up  with  them  flapjacks  and  potatoes.  I'm  nigh 
starved  ! — Set  down,  boys,  and  don't  be  hankerin' 
after  victuals  thet's  jes'  gittin'  cold  afore  yer  eyes. 
— Cynthy,  you  pour  the  coffee,  and  I'll  rastle  with 
the  fish." 

With  this  homely  introduction,  he  at  once  at- 
tacked the  viands.  The  rest  of  the  company  cheer- 
fully followed  suit.  Throughout  the  informal  meal 
Miss  Cynthia  Dallas  presided  with  her  usual  grace, 
pouring  the  coffee  with  frontier  generosity  and  reck- 
lessness, and  serenely  unconscious  of  the  fact  that 
sugar  and  milk  are  indispensable  to  that  luxury  in 
more  civilized  localities. 

Later,  when  the  appetite  of  the  voracious  Alcides 
Dallas  had  succumbed  to  the  abundant  supply  of  cat- 
fish and  flapjacks,  they  all  returned  to  the  fire  and 
seated  themeslves  variously  about  the  blazing  hearth. 
After  a  long  interval  of  gazing  at  the  pulsating  coals, 
the  old  man  delivered  himself  seutentiously  to  this 
effect : 

"It  bein'  a  leetle  chilly  here,  this  evenin'" — in  a 
low,  confidential  tone,  as  if  in  confidence  to  the  glow- 
ing embers — "it  bein'  a  leetle  chilly  to-night,  I  allow 
thet  ef  I  axed  Ameelyer  to  make  a  good  pitcher  o' 
egg-nog,  it  might  help  matters,  and  obligate  the  mists 
of  adversity  and  depression  to  not  so  monotonously 
prevail — that  is,  if  them  durned  hens  hev  concluded 
to  lay  at  all  lately.  Ye  see  we've  made  a  beginnin' 
on  thet  rye  whisky,"  he  added,  by  way  of  apology. — 
"Ameelyer,  wot  account  hev  ye  got  to  give  of  them 
pertickler  hens  ?  " 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  41 

Amelia,  who  was  busily  engaged  clearing  away  the 
remnants  of  the  recent  supper,  paused  at  the  table  in 
the  act  of  scraping  a  dish. 

"  Bless  yo'  soul,  boss,  de  hens  am  all  reg'lar  !  I've 
done  got  five  eggs  a  day  ever  sence  I  fed  'em  thet  raw 
meat." 

"I  wanter  know  !"  said  the  old  man,  in  gratified 
surprise,  without  removing  his  eyes  from  the  hearth, 
"Wai,  then,  you  might  beat  up  about  a  dozen  o' 
them  eggs  in  a  pitcher,  and  empty  the  rest  o'  thet 
bottle  on  'em  to  keep  em  from  spilin'.  I'm  anxious 
not  to  get  them  pains  ag'in.  P'raps  it  won't  do  to 
keep  my  supper  waitin'  too  long  for  it." 

"  De  Lor'  ! "  exclaimed  Amelia,  rolling  her  eyes 
in  amazement;  "yo'  doan'  wan'  de  hole  bottle  o' 
whisky  in  dem  eggs,  boss  !  Do  yo'  wan'  cook  em 
into  one  paste  same  as  an  om'lette  ?  One  teaspoonful 
to  ebery  egg,  sah — dat  am  de  correc'  proportion." 

"  Wai,  let  her  go  at  thet,  then  ! "  sighed  the  old 
man,  querulously;  "so  long  ez  you  don't  give  thet 
centypede  time  to  get  to  work  on  my  inside  afore  yer 
on  hand  with  it." 

Amelia  disappeared  in  the  kitchen  forthwith,  and 
soon  returned  with  the  coveted  beverage  in  an  earthen 
pitcher.  The  glasses  were  filled  and  set  round. 

"  Thet's  a  right  peart  shootin'-iron  o'  your'n,  Mr. 
Bruce!"  said  the  old  man,  picking  up  the  latter's 
gun  as  it  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  hearth-stone,  and 
curiously  examining  it.  "How  do  you  load  her 
though,  without  any  ramrod  ?" 

"In  this  way,"  Bruce  explained,  taking  it  from 
him  and  touching  the  lever,  as  he  rested  the  butt 
against  his  hip.  "It's  a  Colt  gun,  top-action."  As 


42  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

he  spoke,  the  barrel  fell  by  its  own  weight,  disclosing 
the  yawning  breech." 

"  Jeewhittaker !"  exclaimed  Alcides,  opening  his 
eyes.  "It  works  like  a  rifle,  don't  it? — Wai,  now, 
that  lays  way  over  the  '  Silent  Mary,'  Buck,  you  bet. 
— Cynthy,  bring  *  Mary '  out !  She's  standin'  in  the 
corner.  I  loaded  her  to-day,  darter,"  he  added,  in  a 
low  tone  of  voice,  as  if  thinking  aloud,  "with  a  hand- 
ful o'  salt,  in  case  that  blasted  Capting  Foraker  comes 
callin'  on  ye  ag'in  durin'  the  next  fortnight.  I  hain't 
no  other  use  for  him,  and  I  reckon  he  knows  it ! " 

Cynthia  made  no  reply  to  this  remark  of  Alcides, 
but  soon  returned  to  the  hearth,  carrying  with  diffi- 
culty an  enormous  muzzle-loading  shot-gun.  It  was 
double  barrelled,  and  evidently  designed  for  killing 
geese  at  long  range. 

"  I  call  her  the  *  Silent  Mary,' "  said  the  old  man, 
setting  the  unwieldy  weapon  between  his  knees,  and 
regarding  it  admiringly,  "out  of  a  feeliu'  of  gentle 
sarcasm.  She's  about  the  loudest  in  argyment  of  any 
shootin'-iron  I  ever  see.  And  what  she  hez  to  say, 
gen'rally  strikes  home  —  sometimes  both  ways.  I 
reckoned  the  drum  of  my  ear,  one  time,  was  plumb 
busted  !  But  lookin'  at  her  by  and  large,"  he  added, 
tapping  the  barrel,  and  surveying  the  great  gun, 
"'Mary 'hez  more  p'ints  and  more  'gitthar'  than 
anythin'  I  ever  yet  p'inted  into  a  flock  o'  geese  or 
wild-duck." 

He  turned  his  head  slowly  and  regarded  Bruce. 

"I  dare  say,"  the  latter  replied,  considerately, 
"you  can  count  on  that  gun  for  very  long  range,  but 
I  find  mine  very  convenient  for  ordinary  shooting. 
Won't  you  try  a  cigar  ?  " 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  43 

He  opened  a  leather  cigar-case  and  held  it  toward 
him.  The  old  man  took  one  as  a  matter  of  course, 
but  pursued  his  reflections.  Bruce  extended  the  case 
to  Jerrold,  and  then,  lighting  one  himself,  blew  a 
cloud  into  the  open  fire-place. 

"I  don't  allow  thet  you'll  believe  me,"  said  old 
Dallas,  biting  off  the  whole  lower  end  of  the  weed  be- 
fore fitting  it  carefully  between  his  scant  teeth,  ''but 
I  hev  killed  geese  with  '  Mary '  ez  far  as  a  hundred  and 
fifty  yards.  I'd  like  to  git  a  '  bead '  with  her  on  them 
fellers  ez  stole  '  Old  Spike'  and  them  running  hogs  o' 
our'n,  Buck,"  he  broke  out  suddenly. 

Mr.  Buck  Jerrold  assented  grimly,  laying  a  sig- 
nificant hand  on  a  revolver  he  wore  in  his  belt,  and 
tilting  his  cigar  in  his  mouth  reflectively. 

"Are  you  meeting  with  any  loss  in  that  way?" 
inquired  Bruce,  quietly  glancing  at  both.  "  I've  had 
a  little  trouble  of  that  kind  myself  lately." 

"Ya-as,"  drawled  the  old  man,  "there's  allus 
suthin'  goin'  wrong  with  yer  live-stock.  Ef  it  ain't 
cows,  it's  hosses,  and  ef  it  ain't  hosses,  it's  hogs.  Them 
black-and-white  hogs  o'  mine  are  runnin'  free,  to  be 
sure,  but  they've  got  a  good  road-brand,  and  there 
ain't  no  excuse  fur  huntin'  'em.  But  they's  pork 
with  my  brand,  fur  sale  down  at  San  Marcus,  all  the 
same.  I  reckon  it's  Lem  Wickson  and  his  gang.  I've 
sent  word  to  the  sheriff,  and  he'll  be  over  here  some 
day  to  talk  it  over.  I  perpose  to  hev  the  law  on  'em. 

"  Dad-burn  the  luck  ! "  he  broke  out  suddenly,  as 
recent  disasters  increased  his  impatience.  "There's 
them  fine-wooled  Vermont  bucks  out  in  the  pen. 
One  on  'em  didn't  come  to  time  yesterday  at  sun- 
down. Found  him  lyin'  stiff  and  cold  in  the  mornin' 


44:  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

— pizenerl  on  laurel,  I  reckon  !    It's  enough  to  gravel 
the  patience  of  Job,  durned  ef  it  ain't !" 

"  I  suppose  wolves,  coyotes,  never  attack  a  buck  ?" 
hazarded  Bruce. 

"Not  much!"  returned  Alcides ;  "that  is,  not 
when  they're  together.  A  coyote's  knowin'.  Them 
bucks  stand  by  one  another,  and  a  coyote  wolf  isn't 
goin'  to  risk  gettin'  knocked  into  the  middle  of  next 
week  fur  a  mouthful  of  tough  mutton.  A  starvin' 
coyote  might  pull  one  down,  ef  he  caught  him  alone, 
but  they  ain't  no  idea  of  bein'  busted  when  their  at- 
tention is  otherwise  engaged." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  chuckling  to  himself, 
and  took  a  long  sip  of  the  egg-nog  in  his  tumbler 
with  evident  zest.  All  at  once  the  air  without  was 
filled  with  cries,  as  if  all  Bedlam  were  let  loose — 
shrieks,  barks,  and  yells  that,  from -their  number  and 
frequency,  might  have  proceeded  from  fifty  throats. 

"Speak  of  the  devil — there  they  go  ag'in,  them 
durned  coyotes ! "  ejaculated  the  old  man,  turning 
his  ear  to  listen.  "I  reckon  they're  wranglin' over 
the  carcass  o'  thet  poor  old  buck.  I've  a  notion  to 
hump  myself  and  let '  Mary '  off  into  'em,  jes'  to  make 
'em  scatter." 

"Don't  waste  yer  powder,  Al — what's  the  use  ?" 
remonstrated  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold,  lazily  stretching  his 
sturdy  limbs  before  the  fire.  "It  must  be  gittin' 
along  toward  nine  o'clock  ;  them  coyotes  is  good  as  a 
watch  every  three  hours.  Ye  kin  count  on  'em  jes' 
so  often — at  sundown,  nine  o'clock,  midnight,  three 
in  the  morning,  and  about  sun-up.  I  wonder,  now, 
why  thet  is  ?  " 

"  Give  it  up  ! "  said  the  old  man,  shortly.   "  Prob'ly 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  4.5 

because  the  dura  critters  hev  got  jes'  so  much  cussed- 
ness  bottled  up  inter  'em,  and  they  must  let  her  off 
jes'  so  often,  or  bust  the  safety-valve.  And  one  on 
'em  makes  ez  much  noise  ez  twenty.  I  never  hear 
one  o'  them  devils  tune  up,"  he  continued,  slowly, 
"  but  wot  I  think  o'  my  wife,  ez  was  onct,  an'  how 
she  could  '  hold  the  fort '  ef  any  one  give  her  a  rea- 
sonable opportunity.  I'd  back  her  ag'in  anythin'  I 
ever  seen  yet.  Thar  was  times  in  my  fam'ly,"  he 
added,  sinking  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper,  "when 
I  fust  come  to  Texas,  and  started  in  the  hotel  busi- 
ness, and  the  frontier  not,  so  to  speak,  exactly  jibein' 
with  Marier's  eccentricities — thar  was  times  in  my 
fam'ly  when  nothin'  short  of  a  menagerie  at  feedin'- 
time  could  ekel  it.  I  useter  sit  by,  them  times,  try- 
in'  to  console  myself  with  the  idea  thet  I  bed  the  big- 
gest domestic  circus  in  the  Lone  Star  country.  Thar 
wan't  much  comfort  in  thet,  somehow.  But  I'm 
here  yet,"  he  concluded,  triumphantly.  "  Marier 
ain't,  though  ! "  he  added,  after  a  pause. 

"Is  your  wife  dead,  sir?"  inquired  Bruce,  with 
all  the  gravity  he  could  assume.  Cynthia  glanced  up 
at  him  with  a  pained  look. 

"Don't  git  Al  started  on  married  life — don't, 
natchally  ! "  interposed  Jerrold,  hastily,  with  a  warn- 
ing gesture. 

But  the  train  was  already  fired. 

"Dead!"  exclaimed  Alcides  Dallas,  "thet's  wot 
I'd  like  to  know.  Mattermony,"  he  further  remarked, 
deliberately  stretching  out  his  cramped  legs,  burying 
his  hands  deep  in  the  pockets  of  his  ducking-trousers 
and  gazing  dejectedly  before  him  with  bent  head,  as 
if  consulting  an  unhallowed  past — "  mattermony  is  a 


40  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

lottery,  my  friend,  whar  there's  more  blanks  than 
prizes,  and,  understand  me,  I'm  capable  o'  jedgin', 
fur  I  lived  with  Marier  nigh  onto  ten  years,  and 
hevin'  graduated — not  with  high  honors — but  all  the 
same,  hevin'  graduated,  I'm  tol'ble  well  up  on  the 
subjec'.  It's  jes'  ez  I  say  to  Cynthy  here ;  she's  a 
good  little  girl,  though,  and  don't  gin'rally  give  me 
any  trouble  on  thet  score — not  to  say  thet  I  wouldn't 
be  glad  to  see  Cynthy  hitched  in  double  harness,  pur- 
yided  her  pardner  was  an  honest  sort  o'  hoss,  war- 
ranted sound  and  kind,  and  not  likely  to  kick  in  the 
traces ;  but  thar's  allus  thet  risk,  and  nothin's  more 
uncertain  than  marry  in',  I  allow,  unless  it  be  swap- 
pin'  hosses.  My  old  granny  useter  say  to  my  sisters — 
and  God  knows  why  I  didn't  profit  by  it — I  heard  it 
all  my  life  :  '  Gals,  don't  be  in  a  hurry ;  fur,  ef  you 
git  a  good  husband,  you'll  be  well  paid  fur  waitin', 
and,  ef  you  make  a  mistake,  you'll  hev  plenty  long 
enough  to  live  with  him.'  I  kin  only  repeat  the 
same  thing  to  Cynthy,  and  hope  she'll  hev  more  sense 
than  I  bed  on  the  subjec'.  Still,  Cynthy  knows  wot 
I  think  a'ready." 

He  paused,  and  glanced  significantly  at  Mr.  Buck 
Jerrold,  wh6  pulled  his  hat-brim  over  his  eyes,  as  if 
to  shade  them  from  the  glare  of  the  fire.  Cynthia 
moved  uneasily  in  her  corner,  blushed  crimson,  and 
stole  a  glance  at  Bruce  from  under  her  drooping 
lashes. 

The  old  man  drained  his  tumbler  to  the  dregs,  set 
it  down  on  the  table  with  emphasis,  and  proceeded  : 

"  Still,  all  this  ain't  nuther  here  nor  there.  I 
kem  to  Texas,  arter  the  war,  from  Caroliny.  Marier 
and  I  hed  got  along  pretty  well  back  in  the  States ; 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  47 

fit  occasionally,  ye  know,  but  thet's  expected  arter 
the  fust  two  years.  Things  was  flat  in  Caroliny.  I 
'lowed  to  git  out  whar  the  kentry  was  new ;  sold  out, 
tuck  Cynthy — she  was  only  a  baby  then — and  Maricr 
— I  might  better  hev  left  her,  but  I  didn't  know  enough 
— and  kem  to  Texas  and  started  into  the  hotel  biz- 
ness.  I  done  well  'nuff  at  fust,  and  made  money. 
My  house  was  full  all  the  while  of  sheep-  and  cattle- 
men— good  pay  and  plenty  of  it.  But,  bimeby,  arter 
the  novelty  wore  off,  Marier  allowed  thet  the  kentry 
didn't  quite  kem  up  to  her  expectations,  and  begun 
takin'  an  inventory  of  the  guests  stoppin'  at  the  house 
ter  alleviate  her  grief  at  the  fact.  The  fust  feller 
thet  she  seemed  to  find  kalkerlated  to  overcome  the 
monotony  of  the  frontier  was  this  here  Capting  Fora- 
ker  I  loaded  '  Mary '  fur  this  arternoon.  She  met 
him  at  a  *  barbecue,'  and  run  with  him  consid'rable 
fur  a  spell.  Of  course,  I  had  suthin'  to  say  on  that 
subjec',  and  arter  a  while  this  Foraker — he  quit  callin' ! 
It  might  hev  bin  bekase  I  was  right  smart  at  makin' 
warts  on  silver  dollars  thro  wed  up  in  the  air,  them 
days,  but  I  don't  discuss  that  subjec'.  Then  thar 
was  a  sewin'-masheen  agent  who  presented  Marier 
with  a  masheen,  and  thereby,  savin'  Marier  consider- 
'ble  sewin'  at  nights,  give  her  an  opportunity  of  show- 
in'  her  gratitude  by  playin'  the  piany  fur  him  onneces- 
sarily  in  the  parlor.  About  the  same  time  my  mend- 
in'  began  to  be  uncertain  and  permiskiss,  and  the 
fam'ly  menagerie  was  on  daily  exhibition.  The  agent 
fin'ly  went  East,  and  Marier  languished  for  a  while, 
but  one  day  a  julery-drummer  kem  through — a  slick 
chap,  with  plenty  o'  samples  o'  pinchbeck  and  gew- 
gaws. Her  spirits  rose  ag'in,  and  never  faltered  from 


48  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

thet  time  forward.  They  rose  so  high  this  time  thet 
she  left  town  with  that  feller,  one  night,  and  I  ain't 
laid  eyes  on  her  sence.  Marier  never  done  things  by 
halves,  and  I  never  could  quite  onderstand  why  it  was 
she  left  Cynthy  here  behind,  but  it  was  a  fortunate 
thing  for  me  she  did,  or  I  reckon  I'd  settled  my  ac- 
count with  a  six-shooter  during  the  next  fortnight. 
Not  but  wot  I'd  been  willin'  to  settle  hers  fust  tho'," 
he  added,  significantly.  "I'd  preferred  to  have  left 
this  world  with  suthin'  to  my  credit.  Arter  that  I 
quit  the  hotel  bizness  and  kern  here  ;  I  lent  money  on 
live-stock,  and  did  pretty  well.  Buck,  here,  and  me 
own  right  smart  o'  cattle  together,  and  he  looks  arter 
'em,  bein'  foreman  o'  Judge  Keynolds's  ranch,  and 
spryer  and  younger.  I  ain't  heard  of  Mrs.  Dallas 
sence,  and  now  I  don't  wanter. 

"  It's  gettin'  late,"  he  said,  abruptly,  "  and  I 
reckon  we  better  make  down." 

He  rose  with  a  yawn  and  an  impatient  kick  at  the 
dying  embers.  Cynthia  rose,  too,  and,  calling  the 
dogs,  put  them  out  of  doors  for  the  night ;  after 
which  she  dropped  the  gentlemen  a  quaint  courtesy, 
and  retired  to  her  bedroom. 

The  old  man  went  to  a  closet,  from  which  he  took 
three  gray  blankets  and  threw  them  down  on  the  floor. 
"One  apiece,"  he  said,  with  primitive  hospitality, 
drawing  off  his  boots,  and  wrapping  his  ducking-coat 
around  them  to  serve  for  a  pillow.  He  rolled  himself 
in  his  blanket,  his  feet  toward  the  fire,  and  was  soon 
asleep  and  snoring  audibly.  Nothing  was  left  but  for 
Bruce  and  Jerrold  to  follow  suit.  This  they  accord- 
ingly did. 

But  toward  morning  they  were  aroused  by  Alcides's 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  49 

rising  impatiently  and  stumping  noisily  to  the  door. 
A  few  minutes  elapsed  and  there  was  a  fearful  explo- 
sion, the  bare  room  lighting  up  with  the  red  flash. 
Bruce  sat  up  at  once,  rubbing  his  sleepy  eyes,  and 
inquiring  the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  Even  in  his 
confused  alarm  he  heard  Cynthia  laughing  to  herself 
in  her  little  bedroom. 

"It's  nothin'  but  cows,"  said  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold, 
turning  over  with  a  yawn  in  his  blanket.  "  The 
old  man  left  a  pair  of  good  breeches  out  on  the  fence 
to  dry  this  evenin',  and  I  reckon  them  salt-starved 
cattle  hev  been  chawin'  onto  'em  in  the  course  o'  their 
pryin'  'round.  He's  seen  fit  to  turn  loose  onto  them 
the  load  which  he  said  he  give  '  Mary '  this  arternoon, 
on  account  o'  Foraker.  It's  a  way  of  saltin'  'em  that's 
quite  pop'lar  here  at  the  ranch." 


IV. 


DAW:N"  came,  lacing  with  rose  and  amber  the 
severing  east,  with  purple  billows  breaking  upon  the 
horizon's  bar,  and  flecking  the  orient  with  crimson  and 
opal  dyes.  With  the  first  rays  of  light,  the  cries  of 
wild-geese  were  heard  flying  in  long  harrow  toward 
the  river,  and  the  faint  clang  of  mallard  and  shell- 
drake  passing  overhead.  The  sounds  awoke  Bruce, 
who  rose  cramped  and  stiff,  and,  rubbing  his  sleepy 
eyes,  leaned  against  the  chimney-piece  in  lazy  admi- 
ration of  the  pageantry  of  early  morning,  seen  through 
;the  shutterless  windows  of  the  ranch. 

He  glanced  down  at  the  tumbled  heap  of  blankets 
at  his  feet.  Only  one  of  his  companion  bedfellows 
met  his  eye.  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold  had  already  arisen, 
leaving  his  disordered  inwrappings  in  a  tangled  coil, 
very  much  as  a  snake  casts  its  skin.  The  old  man, 
his  hands  folded  upon  his  breast,  lay  flat  upon  his 
back,  snoring  dismally  in  nasal  derision  of  early 
rising. 

Bruce  regarded  him  a  moment  with  an  amused 
smile,  and  then,  true  to  the  sportsman's  instinct, 
drew  on  his  shooting-jacket,  caught  up  his  gun  from 
the  corner  of  the  hearth,  and  stepped  out  into  the 
cool,  clear  air. 

He  was  immediately  overwhelmed  by  the  fawning 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  51 

dogs.  Having  been  making  a  night  of  it,  they  were 
seemingly  desirous  of  testifying  by  their  joyous  wel- 
come the  general  unprofitableness  of  nocturnal  dissi- 
pation. He  stooped  to  caress  them. 

As  he  did  so,  he  beheld  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold  saddling 
his  roan  cow-pony,  and  evidently  making  prepara- 
tions for  an  early  departure. 

"Where  away  at  this  hour  of  the  morning  ?"  he 
inquired,  sauntering  up. 

"  Back  to  the  ranch.  I've  got  more'n  fifty  young 
lambs  to  look  after,  I  reckon." 

"  You're  not  going  off  before  breakfast  ?"  Bruce 
inquired,  leaning  on  the  gate. 

"  I  reckon  so  j  I  don't  call  ten  miles  afore  break- 
fast any  great  shakes." 

"  That  depends  on  the  rider,"  Bruce  replied,  pleas- 
antly. "  I  don't  think  any  one  could  hire  me  to  ride 
ten  miles  this  morning  without  a  cup  of  coffee,  at 
least.  I  feel  as  lame  and  stiff  as  if  I'd  been  dragged 
at  the  end  of  a  lariat  through  a  thick  chaparral." 

"  Oh,  I've  hed  my  coffee,  you  can  bet  yer  life  !  " 
Jerrold  replied.  "  Amelia's  up  already  ;  she  ain't  the 
woman  to  let  a  man  start  out  without  suthin'  under 
his  jacket.  I  say,  pardner,  ef  you're  in  any  great 
hurry  to  get  back  to  the  '  Mesquite  Valley,'  bein'  ez 
you're  turned  foot-loose  and  without  a  nag  to  ride  on, 
ye  can  hev  'Buckshot'  here  fer  twenty-five  dollars," 
indicating  his  roan.  "He  ain't  handsome,  but  he's 
good  for  twice  thet  distance,  ez  smart  ez  ye  want  to 
June  him  ;  he's  fast  and  sure-footed  both,  and  don't 
'  buck '  nuther.  Ye  needn't  keep  yer  friends  waitin' 
and  anxious.  I  kin  rope  one  o'  the  old  man's  '  kave- 
yard'  and  get  off  easy  with  half  an  hour's  delay." 


52  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

He  paused,  bringing  the  much-lauded  "  Buck- 
shot" smartly  around  by  a  blow  of  his  quirt  as  he  did 
so,  at  the  same  time  stooping  and  tightening  the 
flank-girth. 

"Buckshot,"  a  large,  raw-boned,  spotted  horse, 
with  vicious  eyes  and  Eoman  nose,  laid  his  ears  back 
in  protest ;  then  he  sprang  clear  of  the  ground,  with 
back  arched  like  a  cat,  and  rigid  legs,  striking  the 
earth  at  every  bound  as  if  there  were  no  such  property 
known  to  matter  as  elasticity.  He  varied  this  unique 
performance  at  intervals  by  a  plunging  movement 
fore  and  aft,  like  a  stout  ship  in  a  heavy  sea.  The 
result  was  soon  obvious.  Amid  a  whirling  vortex  of 
blinding  dust  and  flying  hoofs,  the  saddle  began  to 
turn.  When  "Buckshot"  suspended  his  exertions  a 
few  minutes  later,  and  struck  a  snorting  and  indig- 
nant tableau,  with  tiery  eyes  and  flaring  nostrils,  the 
saddle  was  upside  down,  and  hanging  loosely  between 
his  four  feet. 

"  No  ! "  said  Bruce,  quietly,  vaulting  lightly  over 
the  fence,  after  witnessing  this  interesting  perform- 
ance ;  "I  see  now  plainly  that  'Buckshot'  does  not 
*  buck.'  He  is  only  a  little  opposed  to  your  'cinch- 
ing '  the  flank-girth.  But  I  think  I  shall  get  along 
here  very  well,  Mr.  Jerrold,  until  my  partner,  Phil 
Kernochan,  looks  me  up  or  something  favorable  hap- 
pens. He  knew  that  my  general  direction  was  the 
Colorado  River,  and  that  I  was  out  after  turkeys. 
Meanwhile  the  hunting  is  good,  and  I  think  I'll  shoot 
a  brace  of  mallards  before  the  family  are  stirring. 
Adios!  Drop  in  and  see  us  the  next  time  you're 
over  our  way.  There  they  come  now  ! "  he  exclaimed, 
shoving  a  couple  of  shells  into  his  gun  as  he  marked 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  53 

a  small  flock  of  duck  coming  down  the  wind. 
"Adios!" 

So  saying,  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  discom- 
fited horse-trader,  and  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold  sprang  at 
once  into  the  saddle.  Before  he  was  fairly  seated, 
the  vicious  "  Buckshot "  essayed  to  repeat  his  previ- 
ous exploit,  but  he  reckoned  without  his  host. 

Mr.  Jerrold  had  improved  the  interval  to  lash  a 
small  stick  back  of  the  pommel,  and  now,  supported 
on  either  thigh  as  in  a  vise,  drove  his  cruel  spurs  into 
the  flanks  of  the  horse  at  every  bound,  and  ruthlessly 
applied  the  heavy  quirt. 

"  Everything  fair  in  a  hoss-trade,"  he  shouted, 
apparently  enjoying  the  animal's  gymnastics.  "I 
swapped  this  critter  yestiddy  for  a  pair  of  leather 
leggin's  and  a  hoss-hair  lariat  to  boot.  The  boss  I 
got  rid  of,  tho',  hed  the  Clampers,'  an'  was  dog  poor 
at  thet.  The  fust  time  the  other  feller  attempts  to 
put  him  on  grain,  he'll  find  he's  got  a  losin'  con- 
tract." 

He  clapped  his  spurs  again  into  the  discomfited 
"Buckshot,"  and,  wheeling  him  sharply  around  by 
a  jerk  on  the  bridle,  was  off  like  a  thunder-bolt. 

Bruce  was  already  far  away  in  pursuit  of  the  fly- 
ing mallard.  He  had  marked  them  down  in  a  long 
water-hole,  bordered  by  low  bushes.  As  he  crept  up 
to  the  edge  of  the  pool  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
old  "green-head"  drake,  a  startled  silhouette  against 
the  misty  bank,  with  neck  outstretched  and  eye  alert. 
His  glossy  mates  swung  silently  upon  the  silver  mir- 
ror of  the  pool  in  the  morning's  gray.  In  an  instant 
the  wary  bird  was  up  and  away,  but  Bruce  stopped 
him  with  his  right  barrel,  and  he  fell  with  a  heavy 


54  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

plump  upon  the  farther  bank,  his  red  legs  straddling 
awkwardly  as  he  came  down.  The  next  moment  the 
air  was  full  of  flying  teal,  rising  with  frightened 
clamor  and  whirring  away  to  the  left.  Bruce  let  the 
other  mallard  go,  and  gave  the  teal  his  left  barrel, 
thinking  of  Cynthia  and  her  damaged  bonnet.  Three 
dropped  to  his  shot.  He  picked  up  his  game  hur- 
riedly, not  without  a  little  inward  exultation.  There 
was  one  drake  among  the  teal.  The  bright  little  fel- 
low fairly  gleamed  in  brown  and  emerald — his  head 
a  banded  flash  of  color,  his  wings  a  fluttering  revela- 
tion. 

Bruce  stood  still  a  moment,  regarding  admiringly 
the  beauties  of  the  dying  bird.  A  light  film  was  set- 
tling on  the  flashing  eye.  He  could  not  help  think- 
ing what  an  improvement  he  might  make  in  Cynthia's 
appearance,  were  he  possessed  of  the  taxidermist's 
skill.  With  masculine  self-confidence,  he  aspired  for 
the  moment  to  become  her  milliner. 

"Ain't  he  a  daisy  ?"  said  a  musical  voice. 

He  turned  in  surprise.  Cynthia  stood  before  him 
— a  blushing  Aurora,  the  roses  of  the  dawn  in  her 
dimpled  cheeks,  the  amber  of  the  sunrise  in  her  gold- 
en hair.  With  the  occasional  recklessness  of  her  sex, 
she  had  arrayed  herself  more  with  an  eye  to  pictur- 
esque effect  than  common  prudence.  She  recognized 
the  fact  that  there  was  an  observer  upon  the  scene  of 
action  more  appreciative  than  usual.  Under  the  cir- 
cumstances, her  defiance  of  season  and  climate  had  a 
touch  of  sublimity.  She  had  donned  a  pale-blue 
muslin  dress,  exquisitely  becoming,  I  grant,  but  a 
relic  of  the  previous  summer  and  a  much  higher 
thermometer.  The  hat  on  her  head  was  of  straw, 


A  NYMPH  OF  TIIE  WEST.  55 

and  supported  a  whole  parterre  of  roses  and  a  long, 
curling  feather ;  and  she  had  on  the  high-heeled 
French  slippers.  They  were  quite  wet  through,  and 
the  embroidered  stockings,  which  a  charming  sense 
of  consistency  in  dress  had  impelled  her  to  wear,  were 
beaded  and  flashing  with  dew. 

Immediately  after  addressing  Bruce,  she  glanced 
down  at  her  feet  with  some  solicitude,  her  light 
skirts  gathered  daintily  in  her  left  hand.  She  frowned 
at  the  slippers,  already  turning  purple  at  the 
toes. 

"I  reckon  I've  spoiled  'em.  the  first  time  I  put 
'em  on,"  she  said.  "However,  there's  lots  more 
where  they  came  from  ! "  tossing  her  head  with  the 
general  suggestion  that  French  slippers  are  a  gratui- 
tous donation  from  obliging  shoemakers  to  the  fair 
sex — an  attitude  quite  carefully  preserved  by  woman- 
kind toward  eligible  bachelors,  along  with  a  becoming 
disregard  of  the  necessity  of  capital.  "  Is  thet  green 
wing  for  me,  Mr.  Bruce?"  she  inquired,  with  a 
politeness  of  manner  which  seemed  quite  as  unsea- 
sonable, in  her  own  case,  as  her  faultless  attire,  and 
in  a  sense  to  have  been  assumed  with  the  gorgeous 
hat.  She  glanced  eagerly  at  Bruce,  as  he  stood  sepa- 
rating the  bright  pinion  from  the  duck's  body,  and 
flashing  the  gleaming  plumes  in  the  sunlight.  "  Oh  ! 
what  a  lovely  little  duck — a  bantam  ! "  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  sudden  feminine  intuition  of  ornithology. 
"Isn't  he  cute  ?"  Then  her  eye  fell  upon  a  hlood- 
spot  on  the  breast,  and  she  looked  suddenly  grave. 
"Do  you  reckon  it  hurt  him  much  to  kill  him?" 
she  pleaded. 

"Not  any  more  than  was  strictly  necessary  under 


56  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  circumstances,"  Bruce  replied,  with  the  sports- 
man's indifference.  "  Good-morning,  Miss  Cynthia. 
Yes,  the  green  wing  is  intended  for  you,  but  I  hardly 
expected  to  see  you  at  so  early  an  hour.  You  look 
like  Aurora,  I  assure  you." 

"Like  a  roarer!"  queried  Cynthia,  knitting  her 
brows  in  puzzled  surprise.  "  Well,  now,  thet  is  a 
compliment — before  breakfast,  too !  And  I  haven't 
said  hardly  a  word  yet.  I  should  think  I  was  'Aulus.' 
Did  ye  hear  him  bay  when  I  first  came  out  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"  No,"  replied  Bruce,  "  I  must  have  been  intent 
on  the  mallard."  He  held  up  the  bright-plumaged 
bird  by  one  leg  as  he  spoke.  "But  I  understand  how 
'  Aulus'  felt,  I  think.  He's  not  in  the  habit  of  meet- 
ing a  goddess  before  breakfast.  It  disturbs  the  calm 
equipoise  of  his  mind." 

Cynthia  glanced  at  him  in  embarrassment,  yet  not 
without  a  certain  admiration. 

"  Dear  me  ! "  she  sighed,  "you're  so  dre'dful  high- 
toned,  it  most  makes  my  head  ache  to  see  what  you're 
drivin'  at.  If  you're  goin'  to  talk  to  me,  Mr.  Bruce, 
you  must  cut  some  of  those  words,  or  it'll  interfere 
with  our  gettin'  acquainted." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  bewitching  perplexity. 
The  level  rays  of  the  rising  sun  shone  full  in  her  eyes, 
and  she  drew  down  her  hat-brim  with  an  impatient, 
dimpled  hand  as  she  did  so. 

Thus  besought  in  reference  to  his  mythological 
quotations,  Bruce  made  haste  to  explain  briefly  to 
Cynthia  the  fable  of  Aurora  and  Tithonus.  She  list- 
ened with  amused  surprise.  When  he  had  finished, 
with  the  lamentable  old  age  that  overtook  that  unfor- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  57 

tunate  lady's  husband,  she  sighed,  and  expressed  her- 
self : 

"So  he  turned  out  to  be  a  grasshopper  in  the  end 
— eh  ?  Thet  was  pleasant !  Served  her  right,  though, 
for  wantin'  him  to  live  forever.  A  girl  oughtn't  to 
get  gone  on  any  man  to  thet  extent — forever  is  an 
awful  long  trip  !  A  grasshopper  !  Mebbe  thet's  what 
father  means  when  he  says  matter'mony  has  so  much 
to  do  with  '  kickin'  ? ' '  She  glanced  inquiringly  up 
at  Bruce.  The  latter  laughed  outright  at  this  com- 
mentary. At  once  she  turned  her  back  on  him  and 
regarded  the  sunrise. 

"So  you  think  I  look  like  thet,  do  you?"  she 
said,  after  a  pause,  turning  to  him  with  a  sudden 
gratification  of  manner,  and  pointing  with  a  rosy 
forefinger  to  where  the  tints  of  dawn  were  being  rap- 
idly lost  in  the  splendor  of  the  coming  day. 

Bruce  nodded. 

She  walked  on  a  few  minutes  in  silence,  with  gath- 
ered skirts  and  a  coy  scrutiny  of  his  face  from  under 
her  drooping  lashes.  A  pleased  smile  lingered  on  her 
face. 

"  How  is  it  that  you  happen  to  be  out  to  see  the 
truth  of  the  comparison  ?"  the  young  man  inquired. 

"  Oh,  I  had  to  turn  the  bucks  out !"  she  replied. 
"  I  usually  do.  I  started  'em  up  the  valley,  and  then 
I  heard  you  shoot,  and  thought  I'd  come  out  and  see 
what  you'd  got." 

No  one  would  have  dreamed  from  her  manner  that 
her  motive  was  aught  but  curiosity.  But  there  was 
the  testimony  of  the  elaborate  toilet,  and  young  men 
are,  perhaps,  more  discerning  than  the  enemy  imagine. 
The  homage  of  beauty  is  always  flattering.  Bruce 


58  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

was  conscious  of  rising  a  trifle  in  his  own  estimation 
as  they  fared  on  together. 

"Dear  me  !"  said  Cynthia,  sweeping  the  horizon 
with  eyes  dazzled  by  the  sun.  "  Where  can  those  old 
bucks  have  gone  to  ?  Could  anything  have  stampeded 
'em?" 

A  sudden  succession  of  dull  crashes,  as  of  heavy 
bodies  in  rapid  collision,  caught  her  ear.  She  turned 
quickly  and  looked  back.  They  had  passed  the  ven- 
erable patriarchs  of  the  flock  —  their  grayish-black 
bodies  scarcely  discernible  against  the  withered  prairie- 
grass.  A  difference  of  opinion  had  evidently  arisen 
as  to  whether  the  best  opportunities  for  pasturage  lay 
up  or  down  the  river.  With  the  predilections  of  their 
kind  for  forcible  logic,  they  proposed  to  settle  this 
question  by  a  reverberating  cannonade  against  one 
another's  skulls.  When  Cynthia  first  espied  them, 
hostilities  were  in  full  progress,  the  horned  combat- 
ants backing  off  a  few  paces  and  coming  together  with 
the  shock  of  a  tourney.  Their  impetuous  recoils  at 
times  threw  the  bewildered  animals  back  upon  their 
haunches,  but  they  staggered  to  their  feet  with  a 
courage  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  and  returned  in- 
domitably to  the  charge.  "Aulus,"  seated  gravely 
upon  his  haunches,  overlooked  this  revival  of  ancient 
chivalry  with  the  gravity  of  a  referee. 

"Goodness  gracious  !  "  exclaimed  Cynthia,  wring- 
ing her  little  hands  in  agitation;  "they'll  be  more 
funerals  among  the  bucks  if  thet  keeps  up  ! " 

She  caught  up  a  dry  branch  of  mesquite  at  her 
feet  and  ran  fearlessly  in  among  them.  A  few  blows 
of  the  thorny  stick  full  in  the  faces  of  the  charging 
sheep  dispelled  their  preoccupation.  They  reeled 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST.  59 

backward,  and  regarded  her  with  lifted  heads  and 
panting  nostrils.  Then,  with  the  sudden  decision  of 
their  species,  they  turned  sharply  about  and  moved 
stolidly  off  in  a  dusky  herd,  as  if  nothing  had  ever 
occurred  to  disturb  their  fleecy  serenity. 

Only  one  venerable  pugilist  remained  to  contest 
the  field  with  Cynthia.  He  had  been  arrested  in  the 
fury  of  his  onset  by  the  discovery  that  his  adversary 
had  turned  tail  and  beaten  a  hasty  retreat  before  the 
blows  of  the  demoralizing  mesquite.  He  now  stood 
stamping  his  feet  violently,  and  debating  whether  it 
would  not  be  as  well  to  do  battle  with  the  indignant 
girl.  The  rapid  evolutions  of  the  brandished  limb  at 
last  decided  him,  and  he  wheeled  about  as  if  to  join 
his  comrades.  At  this  moment  he  caught  sight  of 
"Aulus,"  serene,  unconscious,  and  contemplative. 
Quick  as  a  flash  he  lowered  his  head,  and  plunged  blind- 
ly forward.  In  vain  Cynthia  shouted  and  struck  im- 
patiently at  him  as  he  charged  past  her.  In  vain 
"Aulus,"  catching  a  startled  glimpse  of  him,  strove  to 
swerve  his  unwieldy  body  out  of  the  line  of  assault. 
The  leveled  front  of  his  adversary  struck  him  full 
upon  his  ponderous  shoulder  with  the  force  of  a 
catapult,  and,  with  a  pitiful  yelp  and  loss  of  dignity, 
the  sedate  hound  described  a  bewildered  parabola, 
ending  in  a  succession  of  somersaults,  chiefly  remark- 
able for  flapping  ears.  The  ram,  stopping  in  full 
career,  did  not  pause  to  survey  the  consequences  of  his 
artillery,  but  ignominiously  fled  as  if  in  dread  of  the 
wrath  to  come. 

Words  can  not  describe  the  indignation  of  Cyn- 
thia. She  ran  after  the  fleeing  buck  until  she  lost 
a  slipper,  when  she  was  perforce  obliged  to  abandon 


60  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  chase,  and  hop  slowly  back  in  search  of  the 
missing  buskin.  She  was  met  by  Bruce,  who  had  al- 
ready recovered  it.  She  put  one  hand  upon  his  arm 
while  she  readjusted  the  high-heeled  absurdity.  Then 
she  sought  the  unfortunate  hound.  He,  too,  came 
forward  to  meet  her,  but  with  a  disorganized  gait  and 
with  his  right  foot  raised  appealingly.  She  knelt 
down  and  examined  the  damaged  shoulder  anxiously 
with  pitying  murmurs  of  distress. 

"  Three  days,  shut  up  in  the  house  on  a  light  diet, 
and  Dr.  Tobias's  liniment,"  she  finally  said,  with  the 
air  of  a  veterinary  surgeon.  "  Aulus  "  gave  a  yelp  of 
despair  as  if  he  understood  the  gravity  of  his  affliction. 
"Between  badgers  and  old  'Fagin,'  my  friend,  I 
reckon  there  won't  be  much  left  of  you  naturally,  if 
this  carelessness  of  yours  continues  !  Do  you  know,  I 
think  'Aulus'  is  in  love  ?"  she  said,  suddenly,  look- 
ing up  into  the  face  of  Bruce.  "  It's  either  love  or  old 
age,  I'm  blessed  if  I  know  which  !  He's  allers  sittin' 
round  lately,  sorter  dreamin',  and  the  last  week  he 
hasn't  eaten  anythin'  to  speak  of.  Father  says  thet's 
the  way  it  begins,  and  I'm  not  certain  but  thet's 
what's  the  matter.  But  mebbe  he's  only  keepin' 
Lent,"  she  added,  with  a  mischievous  glance,  as  she 
saw  Bruce  laughing.  "  I  see  by  the  weekly  paper  it's 
early  this  year,  and  p'raps,  after  all,  he's  an  Episco- 
palian— though  I'd  set  him  down  along  back,  on 
account  of  his  bathin'  so  much,  for  an  out-and-out 
Baptist." 

She  sprang  lightly  to  her  feet,  and,  with  cries  of 
encouragament  to  the  crippled  hound,  accompanied 
Bruce  back  to  the  ranch. 

Alcides  Dallas  had  arisen  in  their  absence,  and  sat 


A  NYMPH   OF   THE   WEST.  Gl 

upon  the  door-stone  awaiting  them,  in  a  neglige  so 
startling  and  characteristic,  as  to  impress  the  young 
ranchman  that  attention  to  details  in  matters  of  the 
toilet  was  certainly  not  a  family  trait.  He  was  with- 
out coat  and  hat,  and  his  stockinged  feet  showed  that 
his  rawhide  boots  were  probably  still  performing  the 
office  of  his  pillow.  His  long,  gray  locks  straggled 
over  his  face,  and  he  was  fiendishly  occupied  with  his 
violin.  His  performance  was  of  the  usual  dolorous 
character. 

"  Is  there  any  particular  name  for  that  tune  ?  " 
inquired  Bruce  of  Cynthia,  as  the  jarring  discords 
seemed  to  insult  the  tranquil  serenity  of  the  early 
morning. 

Cynthia  turned  her  head  a  moment  and  listened 
attentively.  She  might  have  been  a  mocking-bird,  so 
characteristic  was  the  action. 

"I  clean  forget,"  she  said,  finally,  •'whether 
father  calls  thet  the  'Husband's  Lament'  or  the 
'Texan  Honeymoon,'  but  it  don't  make  much  differ- 
ence which.  Father's  playin'  is  pretty  much  alike, 
and,  if  ye  remember  thet  his  tunes  all  have  somethin' 
to  do  with  marryin',  you  can't  be  very  far  wrong,  no 
matter  what  you  call  'em.  I  reckon  mother  didn't 
give  him  very  much  variety  in  her  housekeeping  for 
it's  had  an  awful  monotonous  effect  on  his  music. 
Don't  speak  to  him  now,  Mr.  Bruce.  He's  allus 
easier  in  his  mind  if  ye  let  him  play  a  tune  through  ; 
to  stop  him  short  in  the  middle  is  harrowin'  to  his 
feelin's  and  gen'rally  crops  out  arterwards.  Come  in 
right  away  and  have  breakfast." 

And,  without  a  word  to  her  sire,  she  piloted  the 
amused  Bruce  past  the  absorbed  violinist,  leaving 


62  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

him  still  fiddling  violently  upon  the  door-step.  The 
crippled  "  Aulus  "  stopped  at  the  door  to  lift  his  nose 
to  the  sky  and  utter  a  long-drawn,  agonizing  howl  of 
protest — with  which  canine  commentary  upon  the 
unmelodiousness  of  the  old  man's  music,  he,  too, 
abandoned  him  and  hobbled  within. 

The  day  had  worn  away  into  the  early  afternoon. 
The  northward  shadows  of  the  live-oaks  were  swing- 
ing gradually  to  the  east.  Far  up  the  valley  the 
dusky  bodies  of  the  buck-herd  were  seen  slowly  graz- 
ing toward  the  ranch.  It  was  just  after  dinner,  and 
the  wintry  sunlight  on  the  southern  wall  of  the  ranch 
beat  softly  down  with  a  grateful  and  cheering  warmth. 
The  air  was  slumberous  and  still — not  a  breath  or  a 
sound  to  break  the  prairie  stillness,  save  where  an  oc- 
casional marmot  raised  his  peevish  bark  against  the 
oppressive  silence,  and  disappeared  in  his  burrow  with 
a  gurgling  murmur  of  disapprobation.  High  over- 
head the  ever-watchful  buzzards  were  circling  lazily, 
the  sunlight  flashing  now  and  then  on  their  gory  heads 
as  they  wheeled  with  wings  aslant. 

In  the  sunniest  angle  of  the  ranch  Bruce  and  his 
white-haired  host  were  seated,  smoking.  The  old 
man,  enjoying  the  aroma  of  one  of  the  ranchman's 
cigars,  which  he  mumbled  at  a  very  precarious  angle 
between  his  scant  teeth,  was  in  an  expectant  frame  of 
mind  and  unusually  genial.  Cynthia  was  seated  be- 
neath a  live-oak,  playing  with  her  fawn. 

"Do  you  reckon  them  folks  o'  your'n  '11  be  any- 
ways anxious  about  ye  ? "  old  Dallas  inquired,  blow- 
ing out  a  cloud  of  smoke,  as  if  the  chief  luxury  in 
smoking  was  expelling  it  forcibly. 

"I  hardly  think  so,"  Bruce  replied,  lazily  tilting 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST.  63 

his  chair  against  the  side  of  the  house,  with  his  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head.  He  had  thrown  his  hat  on 
the  ground,  and  the  whiteness  of  his  forehead  con- 
trasted with  the  bronzed  hue  of  his  cheeks  and  the 
luxuriance  of  his  square,  curling  beard.  "  My  part- 
ner, Kernochan,  understands  me  pretty  well  by  this 
time,  and  knows  I  generally  come  out  all  right,  so  he 
won't  give  himself  any  uneasiness.  There  may  be  a 
little  fuss  when  my  horse  turns  up  at  the  ranch, 
though.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Phil  rode  over 
here  to-morrow." 

"Wai,  you're  takin'  it  pretty  easy  here,  seein'  ez 
they  hain't  the  least  idea  whar  ye  be,"  returned  Al- 
cides,  frankly.  "  But  that's  what  we  want  to  hev  ye 
do,  tho',"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  fearing  his  mean- 
ing might  be  misconstrued.  "Visitors  with  agree- 
able manners,  and  good  terbacker,  is  all-fired  sca'ce  in 
this  country,"  he  continued,  with  the  general  air  of 
paying  a  compliment. 

He  rose  from  his  chair  with  an  effort  due  to  rheu- 
matism and  the  uncompromising  character  of  his 
knee-joints,  and  swept  the  horizon  with  an  anxious 
eye. 

"Durn  my  skin,  ef  thar  ain't  the  sheriff,  after 
all!"  he  exclaimed,  as  a  small  man,  mounted  on  a 
sorrel  horse,  rode  up  to  the  gate  at  a  fox-trot,  and, 
throwing  himself  from  the  saddle  with  a  nervous  im- 
patience, proceeded  to  tether  the  animal  by  the  lariat 
which  hung  from  the  pommel.  His  nimble  fingers 
were  quick  at  the  task.  He  came  toward  them  with 
a  rapid  step,  his  revolvers  swinging  in  their  holsters, 
and  his  spurs  clinking  as  he  strode. 

"  Wai,  Ike  Mosely,  ye've  got  over  here  at  last,  hev 


64:  A  NYMPH  OF  TEE  WEST. 

ye  ?  "  said  Alcides,  stumping  forward  eagerly  to  meet 
the  new-comer.  "I've  been  a-worryin'  about  this 
killin'  o'  my  stock.  I  reckon  ye'll  beleeve  me,  when 
I  tell  ye  I'm  right  glad  to  see  ye." 

"Ain't  long  to  stay  nuther,"  returned  the  sheriff, 
grasping  the  proffered  hand  of  old  Dallas  with  a  hur- 
ried shake,  and  dropping  it  again  immediately.  "I 
never  struck  sech  a  rush  o'  bizness  sence  them  tem- 
p'rance  idgits  tried  to  ruin  Texas  by  inauguratin'  the 
Brady  City  crusade.  Ye  heard  about  the  '  Temper- 
ance Ball.'  Wai,  the  reaction  after  thet  nonsense 
pretty  near  used  up  Ike  Mosely  !  I  slept  with  my  six- 
shooters  on  me,  and  lived  on  rye-whisky,  for  the  best 
part  o'  six  months.  I  don't  propose  to  give  the  citi- 
zens o'  the  Lone  Star  an  opportunity  to  lay  back  for 
future  cussedness  ag'in,  ef  I  have  anythin'  to  say  about 
it.  It's  mos'  too  wearin'  on  the  narves.  Ez  it  is,  I've 
hed  two  hangin's  already  this  week — to  say  nothin'  o' 
these  rumors  o'  yours  about  hoss-stealin'  and  hog- 
killin'.  And  now,  jes'  ez  I  was  jumpin'  in  the  saddle 
to  ride  over  here,  I  got  word  thet  the  road  agints  have 
begun  ag'in  between  Lampasas  and  Belton.  Thet 
means  all  I  kin  swing  to  for  four  weeks  certain.  Ef 
things  go  on  at  this  rate,  they'll  hev  Ike  Mosely's 
hide  by  the  time  o'  the  spring  round-ups. 

"But  it's  mighty  dry  talkin',"  he  said,  abruptly, 
glancing  at  Dallas  with  a  significant  eye;  "an' I've 
come  all  the  way  from  San  Marcus  to  look  into  this 
yer  bizness  o'  your'n.  How  did  thet  liquor  I  recom- 
mended to  ye  turn  out  ?" 

"I  reckon  it's  pretty  near  all  turned  out,"  replied 
Alcides,  ruefully,  somewhat  discomfited  by  the  urgent 
business  manner  of  the  sheriff. — "Ameelyer!"  he 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  05 

called,  "  bring  out  what's  left  in  thet  thar  bottle,  and 
a  glass  for  Mr.  Mosely. — Ike,  this  is  Mr.  Bruce,  of  the 
'Mesquite  Valley  Eanch,'  stopping  with  us  for  a 
spell,"  he  concluded,  with  a  grave  look,  intended  to 
cover  all  allusion  to  the  ranchman's  mishap,  but  cal- 
culated to  impress  the  sheriff  with  the  idea  that  Bruce 
was  a  highwayman  in  disguise. 

"  Yer  hand,  Mr.  Bruce,"  said  Mosely,  stepping 
quickly  forward,  with  a  keen,  penetrating  glance  from 
under  his  shaggy  brows,  and  a  grip  like  a  steel  claw. 
— "  Ah,  Miss  Cynthia  !  or  is  it  spring  already,  and  are 
the  bluebirds  with  us  again  ?"  he  remarked,  with  easy 
gallantry,  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  Cynthia  and  her  mus- 
lin dress. 

He  doffed  his  broad  sombrero  suddenly,  exposing 
his  high  forehead  and  scant  hair.  His  hard,  blue  eyes 
were  restless  and  cold,  like  chilled  steel,  fie  twitched 
his  huge  mustaches  nervously. 

"  It'd  be  a  pretty  bold  bluebird  to  shake  hands  like 
this  with  a  sparrow-hawk ! "  replied  Cynthia,  with 
dimpled  audacity,  coming  quickly  forward  and  hold- 
ing out  a  little  hand.  "  Glad  to  see  you,  sir  !  How 
are  all  the  birds  down  your  way — kites,  road-runners, 
and  other  jail-birds  ?  " 

"Ho,  ho  !"  laughed  the  sheriff,  "ye're  after  rne 
this  time,  aren't  ye  ?  Guess  ye  must  hev  got  up  early 
this  mornin'  ?  " 

"  She  did!"  said  old  Dallas,  emphatically,  glanc- 
ing at  Bruce — "  earlier  than  I've  seen  her  get  up 
since  the  last  norther.  She  was  thet  anxious  about 
them  bucks  this  mornin'  thet  she  turned  'em  out 
afore  sun,  and  run  'em  more'n  a  mile  up  the  creek  in 
them  new  slippers  I  got  her  for  the  '  Round-up  Ball.' 


6G  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

Strange  goin's  on  for  a  young  gal,  Mosely — strange 
goiii's  on  ! " 

"  Sho  ! "  said  the  sheriff,  laughing.  "  'Tain't  every 
day  they's  a  good-lookin'  young  feller  'round  to  get  up 
for. — Is  it,  Miss  Cynthia  ?  If  they  were  all  old  and 
gray-headed — like  me  and  your  old  man — I  couldn't 
blame  ye,  ef  ye  never  got  up  ! " 

He  glanced  around  to  note  the  effect  of  his  words, 
but  Cynthia  had  disappeared.  At  the  first  allusion 
to  her  early  morning  ramble,  she  had  stampeded  the 
fawn  and  scampered  away  in  pursuit.  Mosely  turned 
and  shot  a  glance  at  Bruce.  He  was  smoking  with 
easy  nonchalance.  But  here  the  approach  of  the 
ebony  Amelia,  bearing  a  frothy  mixture  which  looked 
uncommonly  like  a  milk-punch,  interrupted  his  re- 
flections. 

"  Heah  am  de  boss  bev'age  arter  hossback-ridin', 
sah  !"  exclaimed  that  sable  Hebe,  handing  the  tum- 
bler to  the  sheriff.  "  Dey  ain't  nothin'  wot  goes  quite 
so  fur  or  strikes  quite  so  neah  de  spot.  It  stim'lates 
de  functions  an'  'suscitates  de  system  at  de  same 
time,  sah  !  Besides,"  she  added,  with  a  crafty  wink, 
"I  didn'  wan'  to  scare  yo',  nohow,  wid  de  state  ob 
dat  bottle  after  de  egg-nogg  dis'pation  ob  de  las' 
ebenin' ! " 

"  Let  you  alone,  Amelia,  for  takin'  care  of  me  ! " 
returned  Mosely,  draining  the  mixture  with  a  grateful 
smack.  "  Thet  puts  a  heart  in  a  man  d'rectly. — Now, 
Al,  what's  all  this  about  hogs  and  bosses  ?  "  he  in- 
quired, sitting  down  on  an  adjacent  nail-keg,  with  a 
careless  hand  upon  the  butt  of  a  six-shooter,  and  his 
head  one  side  in  the  attitude  of  listening. 

"  Thanks  !    Thet's  my  size,  every  time  ! "  he  re- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  G7 

marked,  as  Bruce  rose  to  his  feet,  offering  him  a  cigar 
as  he  did  so. 

He  bit  the  end  off  meditatively. 

"  Ye  needn't  go  off  mad.  There  isn't  anythin' 
private  about  this  yer  bizness — is  there,  Al  ? "  the 
sheriff  inquired,  gazing  after  the  ranchman  as  he 
sauntered  away. 

"Not  much  !  The  more  public  ye  make  it,  the 
better  I'll  like  it,"  returned  the  elder  Dallas.  "I 
want  ye  to  shoot  them  fellers,  or  hev  this  marorderin' 
stopped." 

Bruce  did  not  reply.  He  was  already  out  of  hear- 
ing. Ike  Mosely  glanced  critically  at  his  broad  shoul- 
ders and  well-proportioned  limbs.  In  the  repose  of 
his  youthful  strength,  he  seemed  the  very  incarnation 
of  the  sturdy  live-oaks  among  which  he  strode. 

"  A  likely  young  feller,"  said  Mr.  Mosely,  smoking 
violently  and  chewing  the  end  of  his  cigar  nervously. 
"  Somehow  I  rather  like  his  style.  In  a  row  I  reckon 
you  could  count  on  him.  Al,  if  you're  lookin'  for  a 
son-in-law  thet'd  do  you  and  Cynthia  both  credit, 
you'll  do  well  to  encourage  thet  chap.  He  has  my 
best  wishes.  He's  got  sand. " 

And  with  this  official  summary  of  a  husband's 
requisites,  he  addressed  himself  to  the  business  before 
him. 


V. 


IT  was  still  early  morning  at  the  "Mesquite  Val- 
ley Ranch."  A  calm  tranquillity  rested  upon  the 
limitless  prairie.  The  scattered  files  of  trees  that 
everywhere  straggled  across  the  undulating  plain,  and 
gave  the  locality  its  distinguishing  title,  were  mute 
and  motionless,  as  if  yet  in  awe  of  the  recent  sunrise. 
The  effulgent  sun  was  lording  it  over  the  levels,  steep- 
ing thicket  and  chaparral  with  genial  warmth,  and 
projecting  the  shadows  of  slowly-moving  clouds  upon 
the  plain  beneath,  as  in  some  soft,  green  mirror.  The 
large  pools  of  water,  which  at  irregular  intervals  dot- 
ted the  valley  and  outlined  the  course  of  Indian  Creek, 
were  populous  with  wild-fowl,  swinging  silently  among 
the  reeds  and  grasses,  or  rising  in  noisy  company  and 
winging  their  clanging  way  across  the  misty  landscape. 
A  few  plover  piped  mournfully  from  the  uplands. 
The  quarrelsome  cawing  of  ravens,  holding  a  stormy 
conclave  in  some  remote  tree-top,  at  times  rose  angrily 
upon  the  morning  air  ;  and  grazing  occasionally, 
at  intervals  raising  his  head  to  regard  with  attent 
ears  and  quivering  nostrils  the  prairie  before  him, 
but  pursuing  a  direct  course  for  the  distant  ranch- 
house  over  the  sunlit  level,  a  large  sorrel  horse,  sad- 
dled and  bridled,  but  riderless,  came  shrilly  neighing. 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  09 

The  house  which  the  horse  was  thus  approaching 
was  large  and  substantial,  and  built  in  the  fashion  of 
ranches  of  the  better  class.  Square  in  shape,  it  yet 
looked  from  the  open  prairie  a  mere  box,  rising  above 
the  vast  monotony  of  the  boundless  plain.  But  the 
curious  visitor,  who  remarked  it  from  a  nearer  view- 
point, found  it  commodious  in  its  appointments,  sur- 
rounded with  a  strong  barb-wire  fence,  and  flanked 
by  out-buildings  and  corrals  more  ambitious  in  struct- 
ure than  the  dwellings  of  most  ranchmen.  A  broad, 
sunny  veranda  ran  the  entire  length  of  the  house, 
commanding  the  vast  expanse  of  the  outlying  valley, 
as  it  faded  on  the  right  into  dim  vistas  of  foliage, 
tremulous,  that  morning,  with  the  misty  veiling  of 
the  coming  spring ;  on  the  left,  into  the  rugged  out- 
lines of  the  Llano  Hills.  Over  the  floor  of  the  porch, 
where  the  sunlight  lay  in  broad  squares  and  patches, 
a  half-dozen  Mexican  saddles  were  strewed,  their  bri- 
dles slung  upon  the  circular  pommels,  their  broad 
stirrup-leathers  picturesque  and  embossed.  Whips  and 
lariats  were  lying  about.  Several  colossal  rocking- 
chairs  occupied  the  foreground,  with  a  general  air  of 
proprietorship  enhanced  by  their  unwieldy  bulk.  A 
magnificent  buffalo-robe,  thrown  carelessly  over  a  long 
reclining  chair  and  warm  with  the  rays  of  the  sun, 
invited  luxurious  repose.  And  above  the  entrance 
to  the  ranch  the  branching  antlers  of  a  deer  were  fast- 
ened, stamping  the  hospitality  of  the  proprietors  with 
suggestions  of  the  frontier. 

The  wide  doors  of  the  rancho  stood  invitingly  open 
to  the  balmy  morning  air.  Within,  the  broad,  bare 
hallway,  with  its  adjacent  doors  upon  either  hand 
opening  into  various  rooms,  was  dimly  seen.  The 


70  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

walls  were  picturesque  with  rifles,  revolvers,  and  ten- 
nis-racquets, tastefully  arranged  and  grouped.  A  gui- 
tar, lying  carelessly  among  a  heap  of  cushions  on  a 
comfortable  lounge,  betrayed  by  its  blue  and  yellow 
ribbons  the  adornment  of  feminine  fingers.  A  large 
stuffed  eagle  with  extended  wings,  at  the  end  of  the 
hall,  typified  the  far-reaching  destinies  of  the  Ameri- 
can Republic. 

A  young  girl  came  suddenly  to  the  door  and  looked 
out  over  the  broad  valley,  shading  her  brown  eyes 
against  the  glare  of  the  sunlight  with  the  fingers  of  a 
jeweled  hand.  She  was  tall  and  stately,  and  the  sim- 
ple folds  of  her  cloth  morning-gown  swept  to  her  feet 
with  a  graciousness  and  ease  that  betokened  position. 
The  dainty  white  collar  at  her  throat  was  fastened  by 
a  single  diamond  stud  that  flashed  as  if  in  rivalry  of 
the  clear  eyes  above  it.  Her  brown  hair  was  gathered 
in  the  simplicity  of  the  Grecian  knot — the  soft  tresses, 
waving  about  her  temples,  were  like  spun  silk.  From 
the  long,  dark  lashes  that  swept  her  beautiful  eyes  to 
the  heavily  bowed  slippers  that  peeped  beneath  her 
robe,  she  was  all  refinement  and  grace.  And  the  small 
handkerchief  she  raised  to  her  parted  lips  breathed 
that  faint  atmosphere  of  odor  which  seems  to  identify 
the  presence  of  beauty. 

She  stood  quietly  a  few  moments  in  the  corner  of 
the  doorway,  gazing  out  dreamily  over  the  limitless 
prospect,  at  the  vast  billows  of  prairie  stretching  before 
her  like  an  emerald  sea.  Her  eyes  wore  an  expression 
of  wistful  tenderness,  and  there  was  in  them  a  shade 
of  disappointment,  as  one  has  seen  the  water  of  a 
liquid  pool  darker  in  the  shadow  of  some  overhanging 
rock.  Then  she  came  listlessly  forward,  and  sank 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  71 

down  upon  the  reclining  chair,  nestling  herself  in  the 
soft  folds  of  the  warm  robe  with  a  little  comfortable 
shudder.  Her  dark  lashes  swept  her  cheek,  half  hid- 
den in  the  long  fur  ;  her  hands  held  a  vellum  copy  of 
verses  she  had  taken  from  the  chair,  where  it  had 
been  thrown  carelessly  down.  But  she  was  not  read- 
ing ;  and  the  eyes  she  lifted  absently  from  the  book 
strayed  wearily  away  to  the  valley.  Surely  it  was 
very  early  in  the  day  for  reverie  and  meditation. 

The  sudden  neighing  of  a  horse  startled  her.  She 
sprang  to  her  feet  abruptly,  the  color  mounting  to 
her  cheeks  and  suffusing  her  neck  with  blushes,  an 
eloquent  delight  flashing  in  her  dark  eyes.  The  sor- 
rel horse  stood  expectantly  at  the  gateway  of  the  ran- 
cho,  his  long  lariat  trailing  from  the  saddle-bow,  his 
mane  and  forelock  tossed  and  disheveled  with  his 
long  wandering. 

The  girl  gazed  at  him  breathlessly  a  brief  moment ; 
the  next,  the  rosy  flush  faded  from  her  cheeks,  and 
she  stood  white  as  the  neighboring  wall,  her  hands 
clasped  before  her.  She  reeled  a  little,  and  sat  down 
again  in  the  nearest  chair,  as  if  to  recover  herself. 

A  few  moments  she  sat  thus,  trembling  violently, 
her  bosom  heaving,  regarding  the  motionless  horse 
at  the  gate  with  blanched  face  and  agonized  eyes. 
Then  there  was  the  sound  of  footsteps,  and  a  tall, 
handsome  man,  with  bronzed  face  and  flashing  eyes, 
came  striding  along  the  hall  and  out  upon  the  sunlit 
porch. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Edith  ?  You  are  not  ill, 
I  hope,"  he  said,  coming  rapidly  toward  the  young 
lady  with  an  anxious  face,  as  he  observed  the  appar- 
ent weakness  of  her  attitude. 


72  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  Phil ! — a  sudden  faintness,  that's 
all,"  the  young  girl  answered,  striving  to  rise,  a  faint 
color  like  the  flush  of  dawn  struggling  to  her  cheek. 
She  put  her  hand  to  her  head  with  a  deft,  womanly 
gesture. 

"It's  so  very  warm  here  this  morning  I  can 
scarcely  breathe,  and  I  sat  down  to  rest  a  moment." 

She  laughed  an  anxious,  nervous  little  laugh. 

The  man  regarded  her  with  grave  solicitude. 

"You  don't  seem  as  well  lately,"  he  said.  "I 
fear  you  find  this  wild  life  of  ours  less  heneficial  than 
we  anticipated  ;  or  perhaps,  Edith,  you  neglect  your 
exercise.  We  must  go  to-day  for  another  long  prairie 
canter.  Let  me  call  my  wife  to  your  assistance." 

He  turned  back  to  the  door  of  the  rancho,  and 
called  "Kate!"  twice  in  a  loud,  imperative  voice. 
There  was  a  musical  reply,  the  sound  of  a  closing 
door,  the  hurrying  of  slippered  feet  across  the  bare 
hallway,  and  then,  with  the  sudden  revelation  of  a 
pale-blue  morning-wrapper,  fluttering  skirts,  and  fly- 
ing golden  braids,  the  advent  of  "  Kate." 

"Just  see  the  state  that  Edith  is  in  !"  said  Phil 
Kernochan,  pityingly,  directing  the  gaze  of  this  blonde 
and  radiant  apparition  to  the  figure  in  the  chair. 
"  What  had  we  better  do  with  her  ? " 

He  turned  as  he  spoke. 

"  Hello  ! "  he  shouted,  his  eyes  falling  for  the 
first  time  on  the  sorrel  pony  standing  by  the  rancho- 
gate.  "  There's  Hal's  pony  !  When  in  the  world 
did  he  arrive  ?  "  He  glanced  again  at  the  reclining  girl. 
A  light  seemed  breaking  in  upon  him. 

"Why,  it  can't  be,"  he  said  in  amazement,  "that 
his  horse  has  walked  off  and  left  him,  and  he's  been 


A  OTMPE  OP  THE  WEST.  73 

obliged  to  lay  out  a  night  or  two  on  the  bald  prairie  ! 
Well,  that's  rich,  I  declare  I " 

He  ran  hurriedly  down  the  steps  of  the  veranda, 
and  strode  away  to  the  ranch-gate.  He  threw  it 
wide  open,  and  the  pony,  with  a  whinny  of  welcome, 
trotted  gladly  within. 

Kernochan  regarded  him  critically,  taking  his 
meerschaum  pipe  from  his  lips,  an  amused  smile  ac- 
centing the  curves  of  his  mouth  beneath  his  light 
mustache.  There  was  no  sign  of  violence  or  acci- 
dent. A  few  cockle-burs  clung  to  the  mustang's 
mane,  an  acquisition  of  his  recent  travels.  The 
rolled  blanket  still  hung  from  the  crupper  of  the 
saddle. 

Kernochan  gathered  up  the  lariat  and  slung  it  on 
the  pommel. 

"Rube  !"  he  shouted,  turning  his  head  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  neighboring  corrals,  where  a  thick-set 
and  sun-tanned  individual  was  busy  doctoring  some 
ailing  sheep,  "give  this  horse  a  feed  of  corn  and 
groom  him  a  little  ;  take  his  saddle  off  and  turn  him 
loose  in  the  door-yard  till  to-morrow.  Don't  hopple 
him  ! "  he  directed,  as  the  man  approached  in  answer 
to  the  summons. 

He  turned  back  to  the  veranda,  laughing  quietly 
to  himself,  as  if  some  pleasant  revelation  had  dawned 
upon  him.  The  fragrant  wreaths  of  smoke  from  his 
pipe  rose  above  his  head  and  brooded  in  the  still, 
calm  air. 

"Well,  ladies,"  he  said,  coming  tranquilly  up  the 
steps,  his  recent  amusement  still  lingering  in  his  eyes, 
"it  seems,  our  careless  friend,  Bruce,  has  seen  fit  to 
let  his  horse  come  home  without  him.  I  suppose 


74:  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  only  thing  we  can  do  ia  to  ride  out  and  look  him 
up." 

"There,  Edith  Stafford,  I  told  you  that  was  all  it 
amounted  to  !  "  exclaimed  Kate  Kernochan,  smiling 
reassuringly  at  the  young  lady  over  whom  she  had 
been  sympathetically  engaged  ever  since  his  depart- 
ure. "  Give  me  back  my  cameo  vinaigrette  this  in- 
stant !  The  idea  of  your  being  so  foolish,  dear  ! " 

Miss  Edith  Stafford  languidly  extended  the  article 
in  question  —  an  exquisite  blue  trifle,  carved  to 
represent  a  crested  grebe,  and  a  relic  of  Phil  Ker- 
nochan's  generosity  during  his  extravagant  court 
ship. 

"Do  you  think,  then,  he  isn't  dead?"  she  in- 
quired, sitting  up  with  sudden  animation.  "I  was 
certain  of  it !  Oh,  dear !  I  shall  never  get  used  to 
the  dreadful  uncertainties  of  this  primitive  country. 
I  was  quite  positive  some  awful  crime  had  been 
perpetrated."  Then,  springing  eagerly  to*  her  feet, 
"  Let  us  ride  out  for  him  at  once.  Poor  fellow,  he 
may  be  starving  to  death  !  I'll  put  on  my  riding- 
habit  right  off.'' 

She  dashed  away  to  the  door  with  a  haste  that 
contrasted  with  her  recent  feebleness. 

"  One  moment,"  said  Kenochan,  catching  up  a 
leather  quirt  from  the  veranda  and  flecking  his 
boot  with  it;  "I  thought  we'd  make  a  hunting  trip 
of  this  search,  and  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone. 
Ha !  ha !  starving  to  death — that's  good  !  You 
catch  Henry  Bruce  starving  to  death  with  a  breech- 
loading  shot-gun  and  matches  enough  to  stock  a 
ranch.  Not  much  !  Well,  what  do  you  say  ?  There 
are  lots  of  wild  turkey  between  here  and  the  Colorado 


A  NYMPH  OF  TUB  WEST.  75 

River  ;  we  might  take  the  dogs  along  and  course  any 
that  came  in  our  way." 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  charming  ! "  cried  Miss  Staf- 
ford, turning  back  to  flash  her  gratification  upon 
Kernochan,  with  a  revelation  of  radiant  teeth  and 
eloquent  smiles.  "  Come,  Kate,  let's  hurry  and  get 
ready  !  We  won't  be  a  moment  I " 

And,  with  this  feminine  estimate  of  that  indefinite 
period  allotted  to  matters  of  the  toilet,  the  ladies 
rushed  from  the  veranda. 

An  hour  later  they  were  galloping  over  the  sunlit 
levels,  their  cheeks  glowing,  their  pulses  thrilling  with 
the  exhilarating  exercise.  Both  accustomed  to  the 
saddle,  they  rode  with  a  graceful  freedom  and  dash. 
Their  bay  ponies,  accustomed  to  be  driven  together 
in  harness,  seemed  to  derive  a  certain  pleasure  in  rid- 
ing side  by  side,  as  if  yoked  to  a  chariot,  and  the  la- 
dies, clasping  their  gloved  hands,  at  times  challenged 
each  other  to  a  burst  of  speed,  when  they  flew  along 
neck  and  neck  until  some  intervening  bush  or  tree 
compelled  them  to  break  the  chain.  Phil  Kernochan, 
mounted  upon  his  iron  gray,  witnessed  this  graceful 
revival  of  the  circus-ring  with  some  admiration,  and 
put  his  horse  to  his  paces  to  keep  the  contestants  be- 
neath his  eye.  The  dogs — two  large,  tawny  Scotch 
greyhounds — ranged  far  ahead,  crossing  from  side  to 
side. 

Suddenly  a  startled  jack-rabbit  plunged  from  his 
form  and  limped  away  to  the  right,  his  eyes  blinking 
stupid  wonder,  his  exaggerated  ears  caricaturing  his 
fright.  Kernochan  charged  him  with  a  shout,  rising 
in  his  stirrups  and  sending  a  bullet  from  his  revolver 
after  him,  while  at  full  gallop.  In  an  instant  the  dogs 


76  A  NYMPH  OP  THE  WEST. 

turned,  and,  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  fleeing  hare, 
followed  in  pursuit.  Half  for  the  fun  of  the  thing, 
Kernochan  dropped  his  spurs  into  the  flanks  of  his 
gray  and  started  after,  calling  to  the  girls  to  follow. 

The  jack-rabbit  pursued  the  customary  tactics  of 
that  remarkable  animal.  He  ran  for  a  few  moments 
at  the  speed  of  a  railway-train,  and  with  evolutions  of 
his  hind-legs  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  hay- 
tedder.  Then  he  stopped  abruptly,  and  with  his  un- 
manageable ears,  spread  like  a  vessel  wing  and  wing, 
leered  derisively  at  the  following  dogs,  exhibiting  that 
insolent  confidence  in  his  powers  of  speed  which  only 
a  jack-rabbit  can  successfully  affect.  The  next  in- 
stant, realizing  that  no  ordinary  Texan  dog  was  after 
him,  and  that  the  power  to  annihilate  space  was  not 
with  him  alone,  he  was  off  like  a  bolt  from  a  cross- 
bow, quartering  suddenly  to  the  right,  and  easily  dis- 
tancing the  greyhounds  ;  but  at  a  velocity  that  can 
only  be  indicated  by  saying  that  the  line  of  his  course 
was  visible  to  the  pursuers  as  a  zigzag  streak  of  jack- 
rabbit. 

Meanwhile  the  mounted  party,  unable  to  check 
their  running  ponies  in  their  headlong  career,  swept 
over  the  spot  where  the  hare  had  doubled  by  several 
yards.  Kernochan  was  the  first  to  turn,  almost  lift- 
ing his  gray  with  the  bit,  as  he  wheeled  him  sharply 
round  on  his  off  hind-heel,  and  for  an  instant  was 
etched  against  the  pale-blue  sky — an  equestrian  statue, 
with  pawing  hoofs,  flapping  sombrero,  and  flying  bri- 
dle-rein. In  that  brief  moment  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Edith,  pushing  her  panting  bay  to  his  utmost,  and 
closely  followed  by  Kate.  He  could  not  repress  a 
feeling  of  admiration  for  the  courageous  girl  as  her 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  ?? 

lithe  body  swung  lightly  with  the  movement  of  her 
horse,  and  a  loosened  braid  of  brown  hair  tossed  upon 
her  shoulder.  Her  eyes  were  bright  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  chase,  and  the  face  beneath  her  glossy 
black  beaver,  an  inspiration  of  beauty  and  color. 

His  eye  caught  this  flying  picture  as  in  the  flash 
of  a  camera.  A  moment  after,  a  loud  whirring  and 
flapping  filled  the  air.  Several  large,  dusky  objects 
rose  between  him  and  the  ladies,  flying  in  all  direc- 
tions. He  caught  a  glimpse  of  others  running  before 
him  in  line,  their  red  necks  outstretched,  their  mus- 
cular legs  rising  and  falling  alternately.  They  had 
surprised  a  small  flock  of  wild  turkeys  while  feeding. 

He  called  to  the  dogs,  already  far  in  advance  chas- 
ing the  fleeing  jack,  which  doubled  so  quickly  and 
adroitly  that  they  invariably  ran  over  him.  The 
birds  were  scattering  to  every  point  of  the  compass. 
Several  were  still  running  ahead  of  him,  not  yet  hav- 
ing taken  wing.  He  turned  in  his  saddle  and  shouted 
a  warning  back  to  the  ladies,  who  had  checked  their 
horses,  disconcerted  by  the  scattering  of  the  flying 
game. 

"Follow  the  bird  I  take  !"  came  hoarsely  back  to 
them,  accompanied  by  some  inarticulate  sentence 
about  "getting  lost."  A  minute  after,  they  saw  the 
gray  horse  charge  the  foremost  of  the  remaining  tur- 
keys— an  old  gobbler,  whose  iridescent  plumes  flashed 
in  the  sunlight  with  bronze  and  gold. 

The  old  bird  rose  at  once  in  the  air,  taking  wing 
at  first  with  a  strong  and  rapid  flight.  They  were  on 
the  crest  of  a  prairie  billow,  the  valley  below  being 
unusually  open,  dotted  here  and  there  with  an  occa- 
sional clump  of  live-oak.  A  dark  motte  of  pecans  at 


78  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  upper  end  of  this  valley  flanked  the  horizon,  and 
indicated  the  presence  of  water. 

Down  the  slope  of  the  slight  divide  the  horses 
went  at  full  gallop,  Kernochan  fifty  yards  in  advance. 

"Look  out  for  marmot-burrows  ! "  he  shouted 
back,  as  they  charged  down  upon  the  open  plain. 
The  dogs  were  with  them  now,  and  swept  on  ahead, 
their  elastic  bodies  bending  double  at  every  bound, 
their  eyes  fastened  on  the  gobbler,  sweeping  still  high 
over  their  heads,  but  beginning  to  droop.  At  last  he 
came  to  the  ground,  fully  a  mile  from  where  he  first 
took  wing,  and  ran  like  a  scared  cat. 

After  him,  over  the  grassy  level,  swept  the  chase 
in  full  cry,  the  dogs  gaining  upon  the  turkey  at  every 
spring.  The  bird  ran  gamely  and  at  a  great  pace,  but 
with  wings  outspread  and  outstretched  neck  showing 
his  fatigue.  He  was  very  heavy  and  fat,  besides  be- 
ing oppressed  by  the  weight  of  his  winter  plum- 
age. 

Seeing  all  this,  Kernochan  urged  his  horse  to  his 
utmost,  and  was  soon  close  upon  the  dogs.  The 
turkey  rose  again,  but  heavily,  passing  so  near  him 
before  he  got  under  way  that  he  struck  at  him  with 
his  heavy  quirt  in  the  hope  to  bring  him  down. 
Once  in  the  air,  the  gobbler  wheeled  to  the  right, 
sailing  away  this  time  in  the  direction  of  the  pecan- 
grove,  as  if  he  hoped  to  find  shelter  among  the  lofty 
trees.  Quickly  availing  themselves  of  this  change  of 
direction,  Edith  and  Kate  turned  their  horses.  In  a 
few  moments  the  three  were  riding  furiously  after  the 
flying  bird,  almost  neck  and  neck. 

The  bird  showed  signs  of  weariness.  His  legs 
began  to  droop.  He  flew  for  several  hundred  yards, 


A   NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  79 

dropping  lower  and  lower,  his  head  moving  uneasily 
from  side  to  side. 

"  After  him  ! "  shouted  Kernochan,  in  his  excite- 
ment rising  in  his  stirrups  and  urging  on  the  hounds. 
The  hinder  dog  appeared  to  gather  himself  for  a  sec- 
ond, when  he  went  to  the  front  with  a  sudden  rush, 
springing  clear  of  the  ground  and  snapping  his  teeth 
like  a  steel  trap  under  the  feet  of  the  bird.  The 
turkey  drew  his  legs  up  convulsively  with  a  sudden 
cry  that  showed  his  alarm. 

"  Bravo  1 "  cried  Edith,  lashing  her  pony  at  the 
hound's  exploit. 

The  bird  came  down  shortly  after  this,  and  ran 
desperately,  as  if  for  the  last  time.  They  were  close 
upon  the  pecan-grove.  All  at  once  the  gobbler  began 
to  circle.  Urging  his  horse  at  full  speed,  his  eyes  in- 
tent upon  the  coursing  dogs  and  fleeing  quarry,  Ker- 
nochan was  suddenly  surprised  to  see  the  turkey 
double  and  rise  in  the  air,  coming  right  back  upon 
them,  flying  about  the  height  of  his  saddle,  and 
passing  between  Kate  and  himself. 

He  reined  his  horse  up  with  all  the  strength  of  his 
body,  throwing  him  flat  upon  his  haunches  by  the 
suddenness  of  the  movement.  The  hounds,  surprised 
by  this  unexpected  stratagem  of  their  prey,  ran  com- 
pletely over  one  another  in  their  efforts  to  check  their 
onward  course.  At  the  same  moment,  with  a  rush  of 
wind  and  a  jingle  of  bit  and  spur,  a  horseman  passed 
him  flying  like  the  wind.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
roan  horse,  conspicuous  for  the  prominence  of  his 
Roman  nose  and  hanging  under  lip ;  a  strong,  well- 
knit  figure,  picturesque  in  flapping  sombrero  and 
heavy  leathern  leggings  that  reached  to  the  hip  ;  and 


80  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

realized  that,  as  the  man  passed  him,  he  was  gather- 
ing up  the  lariat  that  trailed  from  his  saddle-bow,  as 
if  about  to  throw  it. 

In  an  instant  Kernochan  had  wheeled  his  gray  and 
was  galloping  back  after  the  bird.  He  had  scarcely 
done  so,  when  he  saw  the  horseman  swinging  his  riata 
about  his  head  preparatory  to  making  a  cast.  The 
turkey  was  just  ahead  of  him,  running  from  side  to 
side,  apparently  in  great  distress,  its  wings  outspread, 
its  feathers  ruffled,  its  bill  open  as  it  gasped  for 
breath.  The  man  rose  in  the  stirrup  and  flung  his 
lasso.  The  long  folds  of  the  rope  shot  forward  in  a 
gigantic  spiral,  falling  to  earth  full  on  the  sloping 
back  of  the  bird.  Hardly  had  the  flying  coil  left  the 
horseman's  hand  when  the  intelligent  cow-pony 
stopped  short,  bracing  his  fore  feet  for  the  expected 
shock ;  but  the  adroit  bird  ducked  suddenly  under 
the  noose,  brushing  it  off  with  a  flap  of  his  great 
wings.  The  gobbler  swerved  suddenly  to  one  side. 
It  was  his  last  effort  for  life.  The  hounds,  quarter- 
ing at  the  moment,  met  him  with  open  mouth,  and 
catching  him  fair,  dragged  the  noble  bird  down  amid 
a  cloud  of  dust  and  flying  feathers. 

Kernochan  checked  his  horse  instantly,  and  spring- 
ing from  the  saddle,  beat  the  dogs  off  with  his  riding- 
quirt.  He  raised  the  great  turkey  by  the  legs,  but 
even  then  was  obliged  to  dispatch  it,  as  it  was  not  yet 
dead.  Fully  twenty  pounds  in  weight,  the  magnifi- 
cent bird  glowed,  in  the  glancing  metallic  hues  of  his 
plumage — a  very  rainbow  of  color — a  peacock  of  the 
plain.  He  held  it  aloft  with  both  hands  before  tying 
it  to  his  saddle,  and  turned  to  share  with  Kate  and 
Edith  in  admiring  its  beauties.  As  he  did  so,  he  was 


A  NYMPn  OF  THE  WEST.  81 

startled  by  a  cry  from  Kate.  She  had  halted  a  few 
yards  away,  and  was  seated  in  the  saddle,  pointing  in 
the  direction  of  the  pecan-motte  with  her  riding- 
whip,  her  face  pale  with  anxiety  and  alarm.  A  few 
paces  distant  the  strange  horseman  was  seated  quietly 
upon  his  pony,  engaged  in  coiling  up  his  lariat  and 
attaching  it  to  his  saddle's  pommel. 

He,  too,  turned  at  the  exclamation,  raising  his 
hand  to  .his  eyes  to  shield  them  from  the  glare  of  the 
sun.  He  stared  for  a  moment,  gazing  out  upon  the 
valley ;  then,  striking  his  spurs  into  his  roan,  with 
long,  loose  stirrups  and  bridle  thrown  free  upon  the 
animal's  neck,  he  seemed  to  put  him  in  a  twinkling 
at  the  top  of  his  speed.  He  vanished  from  his  post 
with  the  speed  and  fury  of  a  meteor.  Before  Kerno- 
chan  could  throw  himself  into  his  saddle,  he  was  far 
out  upon  the  plain. 

Lost  in  astonishment  at  the  mad  speed  of  his  de- 
parture, Kernochau  turned  inquiringly  to  his  wife. 

"  Edith  ! "  she  gasped,  turning  upon  him  a  blanched 
face.  "  Do  you  not  see  her  ?  " 

Following  the  direction  of  her  outstretched  hand, 
he  beheld  the  cause  of  the  stranger's  action.  The  al- 
most level  valley  stretched  away  in  front  of  him,  clear 
and  unbroken,  to  the  dark  line  of  pecans  distant  about 
a  mile.  Across  this  open  a  bay  horse  was  running, 
heading  for  the  timber,  and,  from  the  rapid  tossing 
of  the  animal's  head,  apparently  unmanageable.  Its 
rider,  although  sitting  firmly,  had  evidently  aban- 
doned the  reins,  as  if  the  bit  were  useless  or  broken, 
and  was  endeavoring  to  maintain  her  position  by 
grasping  the  pommel  of  her  saddle  with  both  hands. 
Kernochan  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  horse,  whether 
6 


82  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

from  fright  or  excitement,  was  running  away,  and 
that  the  situation  of  the  rider  was  perilous  in  the  ex- 
treme. A  misstep,  or  stumble,  or  a  dash  among  the 
timber  for  which  they  were  headed,  might  hurl  her 
from  the  saddle  and  to  instant  death.  He  now  un- 
derstood the  headlong  haste  with  which  the  horseman 
had  dashed  away. 

Helpless  to  stay  or  avert  the  terrible  danger  which 
threatened  their  guest,  husband  and  wife  remained 
rooted  to  the  spot.  The  bay  pony  still  ran  recklessly, 
with  ears  viciously  laid  back,  and  tail  streaming. 
Edith,  her  brown  hair  shaken  loose  and  tossing  upon 
her  shoulders,  the  flying  folds  of  her  dark  habit  puf- 
fing around  her,  still  clung  to  her  saddle  and  kept  her 
seat.  The  galloping  horseman,  closing  in  upon  her 
in  a  long  circle,  was  riding  like  a  centaur,  his  roan  a 
thunder-bolt  of  action  against  the  dull  horizon.  A 
moment  more  and  he  had  wheeled  in  her  wake,  rising 
in  his  stirrups  and  lashing  his  horse  a  dozen  times 
with  his  cruel  whip  as  he  rode.  They  saw  him  take 
the  reins  in  his  teeth,  cast  off  his  coat  and  hat,  and, 
after  a  few  more  blows  of  his  quirt,  fling  that  away 
also.  The  roan  horse,  goaded  to  fury  by  the  blows, 
flew  like  the  wind,  closing  the  gap  between  them  at 
every  spring.  The  horseman  shifted  his  reins  to  his 
left  hand,  standing  erect  in  his  stirrups,  and  urging 
him  to  a  final  burst  of  speed.  Kate  and  Philip  caught 
their  breath.  With  a  rush  the  horses  seemed  to  glide 
together,  the  roan  passing  to  the  left.  For  a  second 
they  appeared  as  if  yoked,  straining  neck  and  neck, 
and  almost  flank  against  flank ;  the  next,  the  horse- 
man bent  forward,  throwing  his  sinewy  right  arm 
about  the  girl's  waist  as  she  sat  in  the  saddle.  With 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  83 

a  sudden  effort  he  lifted  her  clear  of  the  saddle- 
horn,  and,  as  a  blow  of  his  boot  swerved  the  bay 
pony  to  the  right,  he  bore  her  away  in  his  embrace, 
checking  his  horse  as  he  ran.  A  second  later,  halting 
in  the  shade  of  the  great  pecan-grove,  he  dropped  his 
fair  burden  lightly  to  the  ground. 


VI. 


THE  vertical  rays  of  noontide  were  beating  down 
upon  Cynthia's  bower.  Here  and  there  an  occasional 
shaft  of  sunlight  pierced  the  groined  roof,  glanced  with 
a  golden  gleam  across  the  twilight  depths,  and  shivered 
itself  upon  the  needle-strewn  floor  in  a  shower  of 
shining  sparks.  The  leafy  ceiling  above  was  bright 
with  a  thousand  luminous  points  from  the  steady  glare 
without.  Now  and  then  a  cone  fell,  or  a  feathery 
seed-vessel  slipped  softly  to  the  earth  in  the  gloom  of 
the  columned  aisles.  The  sudden  bright  flash  of  in- 
vading wings,  the  hurried  scampering  of  a  rabbit,  or 
the  rustle  of  some  lizard,  wakened  from  his  siesta  on 
a  sun-steeped  bowlder,  testified  the  popularity  of  shade 
and  coolness  during  the  heat  of  the  day.  The  rattling 
notes  of  a  banjo,  struck  at  intervals,  the  low  murmur 
of  voices  in  conversation,  and,  above  all,  the  odor  of 
burning  tobacco,  overmastering  the  aromatic  incense 
of  the  wilds,  announced  the  presence  of  other  visitors. 
They  were  Bruce  and  Cynthia. 

The  young  girl  was  seated  at  the  base  of  a  scarred 
and  denuded  hemlock,  the  light  sifting  through  the 
branches  above  and  falling  full  upon  her  head  and 
shoulders.  A  small  banjo,  showing  signs  of  abuse 
and  exposure  to  the  elements,  lay  in  her  lap.  Occa- 
sionally she  struck  the  strings.  Half  reclining  at  her 


A  NYMPH  OF  TIIE  WEST.  85 

feet,  and  completely  enveloped  in  the  wreaths  of 
smoke  that  brooded  like  a  blue  vapor  in  the  quiet  air, 
Bruce  lay  smoking.  The  antelope  -  fawn,  its  feet 
curled  up,  its  velvet  eyes  blinking  drowsily  ;  "  Anlus," 
his  great  right  paw  in  a  muslin  sling,  and  regarding 
his  unfortunate  predicament  with  a  general  flavor  of 
solicitude  and  "mustang  liniment,"  completed  this 
rural  quartette. 

A  sudden  breath  of  air  dispersed  the  smoke,  favor- 
ing the  hound  with  a  passing  whiff.  He  sneezed  vio- 
lently, and  looked  annoyed,  as  if  the  last  test  had  been 
put  upon  his  patience. 

"You  smoke  too  much,  Mr.  Bruce,"  said  Cynthia, 
waving  the  passing  cloud  from  the  dog's  head  with  a 
compassionate  hand.  "If  you  keep  it  up,  I  wouldn't 
wonder  ef,  one  day,  you  got  jest  as  homely  and  coffee- 
colored  as  thet  skull.  Why  don't  ye  quit  before  it 
gets  you  ?  " 

Bruce  laughed,  and  removed  the  long  amber  mouth- 
piece of  his  pipe  from  his  lips.  It  was  of  meer- 
schaum, and  carved  to  represent  a  hand  holding  a 
human  skull. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said,  blowing  a  huge  ring, 
that  shot  forward  with  curling  folds  until  it  broke 
upon  the  nose  of  the  nodding  antelope.  "I  suppose 
I  like  to  smoke,  and  then  I  seem  to  stand  it  very  well. 
Possibly,  too,  there  is  something  in  my  associations 
with  the  pipe." 

"Who  gave  it  to  you,  Mr.  Bruce  ?"  said  Cynthia, 
quickly,  raising  her  eyes  to  his.  They  were  solemn 
and  deep,  and  beneath  their  dark  lashes  reminded 
Bruce  of  some  calm,  blue  pool  he  had  seen  in  the 
shadow  of  a  wood. 


86  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"A  friend  of  mine,"  he  answered,  indefinitely, 
noting  her  earnestness. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "but  I  meant,  was  it  a  man,  or 
wasn't  it?" 

Her  eyes  dropped  suddenly  from  his  face,  and  she 
struck  the  protesting  banjo  roughly  in  her  embarrass- 
ment. 

"It  was  a  lady,"  Bruce  replied,  gravely. 

"Light  or  dark  complected?"  asked  Cynthia, 
breathlessly,  not  raising  her  eyes. 

"Dark,"  said  Bruce  in  the  same  tone — "a  rich 
creamy  brown — I  don't  think  that  even  that  beauti- 
ful tint  there," — he  continued,  indicating  where  the 
soft  white  of  the  stem  was  faintly  dyed — "could  hope 
to  vie  with  her.  Her  eyes  were  dark  too — more  like 
that,"  touching  the  hue  of  the  bowl ;  "and  her  hair 
— there  is  nothing  here  to  show  you  that  can  do  it 
justice." 

Cynthia  sighed. 

"Lawful  sakes!"  she  exclaimed.  "An'  is  thet 
the  reason  you're  smokin'  thet  thing  all  the  while, 
'cause  ye  jest  naturally  expect,  one  day,  to  make  it 
look  like  thet  chocolate-colored  woman  ?  " 

Bruce  hurriedly  disclaimed  any  such  intention. 

"  Well,  I  wouldn't  try,"  she  rejoined,  "for,  by  the 
time  you've  done  it,  ye'll  prob'ly  be  dead.  Father 
hed  a  meerschaum  that  he  was  colorin'  once,  but  he 
said,  before  he  got  through,  it  colored  him  instead. 
I  reckon  so."  After  this  alarming  instance  of  the 
effect  of  nicotine,  she  became  silent.  Bruce  contin- 
ued smoking. 

"'How  old  is  she?"  Cynthia  inquired,  suddenly, 
turning  from  him  and  glancing  across  the  river. 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  87 

"That's  an  uncertain  question,"  the  gentleman 
replied.  "In  fact,  I  know  nothing  so  difficult  to 
ascertain  precisely  as  the  age  of  a  young  woman." 

Cynthia  looked  puzzled.  Then  she  apparently 
received  an  inspiration. 

"Didn't  ye  get  to  see  her  teeth?"  she  inquired, 
demurely,  but  revealing  an  irresistible  circle  of  pearl 
by  the  question. 

The  gentleman  overlooked  in  silence  this  query, 
prompted  no  doubt  by  her  knowledge  of  sheep. 

"Where  does  she  live?"  inquired  Miss  Dallas, 
nothing  daunted. 

"About  twenty  miles  from  here,"  Bruce  replied. 

"Oh  !"  said  Cynthia.  She  was  suddenly  silent. 
The  soft  sunlight  played  amid  the  tresses  of  her  golden 
hair,  as  with  downcast  lashes  she  caressed  the  ante- 
lope, burying  her  fingers  in  his  rough  coat.  A  few 
needles,  shaken  from  the  pines,  drifted  down  upon 
her.  It  was  as  if  the  fond  fathers  of  the  wood  were 
wafting  a  benediction  upon  the  one  who  cheered  their 
solitude.  High  on  some  rocking  bough  a  blue  jay 
flung  his  bright  pennant,  and  filled  the  air  with  his 
harsh  calling. 

Suddenly  Cynthia  raised  her  head. 

"  Do  you  expect  to  see  her  soon  ?  " 

"See— whom?" 

"  Thet  girl  you're  so  gone  on  ?  "  she  inquired,  with 
matter-of-fact  gravity. 

Bruce  was  about  to  enter  an  emphatic  protest. 
In  his  earnestness  he  leaned  toward  Cynthia  and  took 
her  hand.  The  girl  trembled  a  little,  and  the  color 
dyed  her  cheek,  but  she  did  not  withdraw  it.  She 
lifted  her  eyes  to  his  and  smiled  upon  him  so  sweetly, 


88  A  NYMrH  OF  THE  WEST. 

that  whatever  of  mischief  there  had  been  in  her  ques- 
tion  fled  before  it.  Such  a  radiant  beauty  had  sud- 
denly come  to  dwell  within  her  eyes. 

The  quick  snapping  of  a  twig  caused  Bruce  to 
look  up.  He  dropped  the  girl's  hand  abruptly  with 
an  embarrassed  air. 

Two  ladies  were  standing  in  a  sunlit  opening 
without  and  gazing  into  the  bower.  They  were  in 
riding-habits,  their  long  skirts  gathered  in  their  left 
hands,  their  whips  in  their  right.  The  younger  of 
the  two — a  dashing  brunette — was  modishly  attired. 
A  glossy  black  beaver,  perched  saucily  on  her  head, 
accented  the  flash  of  the  dark  eyes  beneath.  The  bit 
of  black  lace  at  her  throat  was  fastened  with  a  dia- 
mond. Her  hands  were  fastidiously  gloved.  She 
laughed  a  merry,  ringing  laugh,  as  she  advanced  into 
the  bower. 

"  So,  sir  ! "  she  said,  laying  her  slim  gloved  hand 
upon  Bruce's  shoulder  with  a  certain  familiar  air  of 
proprietership,  "we  have  found  you  out  at  last! 
And,  as  usual,  surprised  you  in  the  attitude  of  a  gal- 
lant. Do  not  let  us  interrupt  you,  I  beg ;  but,  at 
least,  favor  us  with  an  introduction." 

She  glanced  coldly  down  at  Cynthia,  who,  intui- 
tively recognizing  a  rival,  returned  the  glance  with 
the  customary  feminine  cordiality. 

"Why,  Edith — you  here?"  exclaimed  Bruce, 
springing  to  his  feet,  and  clasping  the  gloved  hand 
in  both  his  own.  "And  Kate  ?"  advancing  to  meet 
the  lady  who  had  lingered  without.  "How  is 
this?" 

"  It  means,"  said  Kate,  laughing,  "  that  you  are  a 
careless,  wicked  fellow,  and  that  Edith  has  been 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  89 

half  dead  with  anxiety,  fancying  you  killed  or  starved 
to  death." 

"  No  such  thing  ! "  replied  Edith  with  spirit,  lash- 
ing a  small  cedar  with  her  riding- whip  in  her  embar- 
rassment. "  I  knew  all  the  while  we  should  find  him 
at  some  farm-house.  But  I  certainly  think,  Hal," 
she  added,  glancing  down  at  Cynthia,  who,  with  low- 
ered crest,  had  been  caressing  her  fawn  and  lavish- 
ing tender  solicitude  upon  the  wounded  "Aulus," 
ever  since  the  ladies'  arrival, — "I  certainly  think 
you  are  very  exclusive  in  regard  to  your  new  dul- 
cinea." 

Bruce  glanced  at  her  with  a  look  in  his  hazel  eyes 
that  was  almost  reproach.  Their  eyes  met.  Edith's 
expression  was  one  of  defiance,  but  in  spite  of  herself 
there  stole  into  her  dark  orbs  such  a  wistful  tender- 
ness— such  a  caressing  fondness  for  the  man  before 
her — that  she  let  their  curtained  fringes  drop  before 
his  steadfast  gaze,  and  turned  her  attention  to  Miss 
Dallas.  An  embarrassing  pause  ensued. 

"  Cynthia,"  she  heard  the  cordial  voice  of  Bruce 
say  a  minute  later,  "this  is  Miss  Stafford — the  lady 
of  whom  I  spoke  as  having  given  me  the  pipe.  Let 
me  make  you  acquainted.  Also,  with  Mrs.  Ker- 
nochan — my  partner's  wife. 

The  ladies  exchanged  salutations,  Mrs.  Kernochan 
bestowing  a  kindly  glance  upon  Cynthia,  as  her  admir- 
ing eyes  dwelt  upon  the  piquant  face  in  its  picturesque 
setting  of  red-gold  tresses.  Cynthia's  greeting  was 
frank,  but  accompanied  by  a  shy  restraint  that  was 
unusual  with  her  ;  Miss  Stafford's,  disdainful  and  re- 
served. Probably  her  feminine  appreciation  of  the 
fact  that  Diana's  namesake  was  both  fascinating  and 


90  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

pretty,  perceptibly  lowered  the  temperature  of  her 
recognition. 

A  few  moments  later  they  were  all  wending  their 
way  back  to  the  ranch,  Cynthia  preceding  them,  es- 
corted by  the  gracefully  tripping  fawn  and  the  limp- 
ing "  Aulus."  Bruce  accompanied  the  ladies. 

"This  picturesque,  gypsy  acquaintance  of  yours  is 
quite  enchanting,  with  her  quaint  simplicity  and 
original  pets,"  remarked  Miss  Stafford,  glancing  at 
Bruce  from  under  her  eyelids  as  they  fared  on.  "  I 
can  readily  see  how  easily  you  forget  your  former 
friends." 

"  Nonsense,  Edith  !"  Bruce  returned  with  some 
impatience,  breaking  a  small  twig  of  dry  brush  as 
they  passed,  and  hurling  it  from  him  violently  as  if 
to  give  vent  to  his  irritation.  "  This  banter  and 
child's  play  have  gone  far  enough.  The  little  Lone 
Star  maiden  is  quite  a  character — a  charming  little 
idyl  of  her  native  river.  I  want  you  to  cultivate  her 
and  appreciate  her  originality.  She  is  like  a  spicy 
breath  from  her  native  woods ;  she  interests  me  by 
her  very  novelty." 

"  Your  eloquence  is  quite  astounding,  considering 
the  apathy  of  your  interest,"  Miss  Stafford  returned 
satirically,  glancing  away  in  the  direction  of  the  low 
western  hills.  How  indifferent  they  looked  to  human 
disquietude,  basking  in  the  warm  wintry  sunlight ! 

"But  how  came  she  possessed  of  that  beautiful 
antelope  ?"  inquired  Kate,  anxious  to  divert  Edith's 
jealous  annoyance.  "  I  quite  envy  her  such  a  charm- 
ing companion." 

"Isolated  as  she  is,"  Bruce  replied,  gravely,  "she 
is  not  without  her  admirers.  The  mother  of  this 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  91 

fawn,  she  tells  me,  was  shot  by  one  Buck  Jerrold — a 
cow-boy  admirer  of  hers,  I  fancy.  He  found  the  little 
thing  bleating  about  the  body  of  the  dead  antelope, 
and  brought  it  in  to  her  after  one  of  his  hunting  trips. 
Patient  nursing  and  a  pious  fraud,  perpetrated  by 
Cynthia  upon  an  old  ewe  which  had  lost  her  lamb,  have 
enabled  her  to  rear  it.  I  think  it  a  triumphant  proof 
of  her  cleverness.  You  see,  she  tied  the  skin  of  the 
dead  lamb  around  the  fawn  and  quite  deceived  old 
'  Granny '  by  the  trick.  Jerrold  tells  me — " 

But  here,  noticing  the  surprised  look  in  Mrs.  Ker- 
nochan's  face,  he  stopped  in  astonishment. 

"Buck  Jerrold  I"  interrupted  that  lady,  turning 
to  Edith  ;  "  why,  that  explains  your  gallant  friend's 
knowledge  of  Hal's  whereabouts.  I  thought  his  reti- 
cence rather  singular  at  the  time." 

It  was  now  Bruce's  turn  to  appear  puzzled. 

"  You  speak  in  riddles,"  he  said,  gravely,  regard- 
ing them  both. 

The  fair  Kate  laughed  merrily  at  his  bewilder- 
ment. 

"There  have  been  strange  adventures  and  exciting 
escapades  since  you  left  us,  sir,"  she  rejoined,  gayly. 
"You  must  look  to  your  laurels,  Hal,  or  a  sense  of 
gratitude  may  induce  Edith  to  think  seriously  of  an- 
other in  your  absence.  And  this  Mr.  Jerrold  is  the 
accommodating  equestrian  beyond  perad venture." 

She  briefly  recounted  the  adventure  of  the  morn- 
ing, and  the  skillful  manner  in  which  Miss  Stafford 
had  been  rescued  from  her  peril. 

"  Well,"  said  Bruce,  with  an  altered  face  and  an 
anxious  manner,  after  he  had  listened  to  Mrs.  Ker- 
nochan's  thrilling  account,  given  with  a  woman's  en- 


92  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

thusiasm  and  appreciation  of  detail,  "  this  Jerrold  is 
more  of  a  man  than  I  took  him  to  be,  after  all.  He 
seemed  an  odd  sort  of  genius,  with  certain  crotchets 
unusual  upon  the  frontier,  and  admirable  enough  in 
their  way,  but  I  certainly  did  not  look  for  a  hero. 
However,  my  dear,"  he  added,  anxiously,  turning  to 
the  petulant  beauty  who  was  tripping  along  beside 
him,  apparently  indifferent  to  the  recent  conversation 
in  her  fastidious  avoidance  of  the  thorny  brush  which 
threatened  her  gathered  habit,  "  it  seems  you  found 
him  one." 

"  Many  a  loyal  heart  lurks  beneath  a  ducking- 
jacket,"  rejoined  that  lady,  with  dignity.  "  The  un- 
lettered men  I  find  among  the  most  endurable  of  the 
inhabitants  of  this  primitive  country,"  she  added, 
quickly. 

They  had  reached  the  ranch-gate  and  passed  within 
the  inclosure.  Alcides  Dallas,  smoking  one  of  Phil 
Kernochan's  long  cigars  at  a  precarious  angle,  owing 
to  the  scarcity  of  his  teeth,  was  seated  on  a  nail-keg 
under  a  live-oak,  regaling  the  latter  with  one  of  his 
most  dismal  fantasies  upon  the  violin. 

Mr.  Kernochan,  discreetly  removed  to  the  vantage 
of  the  distant  door-stone,  was  preserving  the  attitude 
of  polite  attention,  but  with  a  contortion  of  feature 
that  was  distressing  to  witness.  The  tableau  was  so 
ludicrous  and  expressive  that  the  party  burst  into 
laughter  as  they  joined  him.  Alcides,  seeing  that  his 
efforts  were  producing  an  erroneous  impression,  ceased 
playing  at  once,  and,  setting  his  instrument  down, 
regarded  them  vacantly,  a  hand  placed  idly  upon 
either  knee. 

"  Ye  don't  seem  to  ketch  on  to  what  I  was  gottin' 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  93 

at,"  he  said,  vaguely,  regarding  them  with  his  lack- 
luster eyes.  "  I  reckon  ye  would  hev,  though,  ef  ye'd 
waited  till  I  got  to  the  *  wind-up.'  But  ef  ye'd  known 
Marier,  ez  I  did,  and  hed  to  live  with  her,  ez  I  hed, 
inter  the  bargain,  I  allow  there'd  been  no  question." 

He  paused  as  if  for  confirmation.  That  being  not 
forthcoming,  but  his  visitors  preserving  a  grave  silence, 
an  apology,  it  seemed,  for  their  previous  rudeness,  he 
essayed  to  present  his  reflections  in  a  more  forcible 
way. 

"It  was  nigh  onto  ten  years,"  he  said,  deliberate- 
ly, crossing  his  legs  luxuriously  as  he  sat  upon  the 
nail-keg,  removing  his  cigar  carefully  from  its  socket 
between  his  sparse  teeth,  and  blowing  a  volume  of 
smoke  forcibly  upon  the  weed — "  it  was  nigh  onto  ten 
years  thet  I  lived  with  Marier,  and  a  more  hair-raisin' 
existence,  I'll  allow,  was  never  lived  by  any  critter 
within  the  circle  of  God's  providence — " 

"  Father,"  said  Cynthia,  coming  forward  with  a 
look  of  annoyance  in  her  blue  eyes,  "  aren't  it  almost 
time  to  have  dinner  ?  Don't  you  think  you  better 
put  off  what  you're  goin*  to  say  about  mamma  until 
we've  all  had  somethin'  to  eat,  and  '11  be  better  able 
to  stand  it  ?  " 

An  amused  smile  went  round  the  circle. 

"I  reckon  so,  Cynthy,"  said  her  father,  rising  to 
his  feet,  not  without  visible  regret  at  her  interruption 
of  his  narrative.  "  What's  gone  with  Ameelyer,  natch- 
ally  ?  Tell  her  to  hurry  up  her  cakes,  and  not  keep 
everybody  waitin'.  S'posin'  we  fetch  the  table  out  an' 
eat  dinner  in  the  open  air,  where  we'll  hev  plenty  of 
room,  bein'  ez  we  happen  to  be  so  durned  crowded  ?" 
And  with  this  hospitable  climax  he  rolled  an  inquiring 


94  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

eye  around  the  assembled  company,  resting  finally 
upon  Bruce. 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  charming  1 "  exclaimed  the 
impulsive  Mrs.  Kernochan,  with  a  little  gesture  of 
ecstasy.  "  So  like  a  picnic  1  And  to  think  of  our 
being  able  to  do  it  with  perfect  comfort  in  the  month 
of  February  I— There  is  something  astonishing,  Edith, 
to  write  about  to  your  Northern  friends." 

Forthwith  the  edict  of  Alcides  was  carried  to  the 
ebony  Amelia  by  the  delighted  Cynthia. 

"  'Pears  like  de  domestic  contrapshuns  ob  dis  yere 
ranch  am  all  absquatulated,"  grumbled  that  important 
personage,  as  she  busied  herself  in  carrying  out  the 
crockery  and  arranging  the  table.  "  De  boss  am  jes' 
ez  crazy  ez  de  rest  ob  'em,"  she  added,  darkly,  as  she 
noted  old  Dallas  still  violently  attacking  bis  cigar,  and 
watching  her  preparations  with  evident  satisfaction. 
"  De  fac'  is,  fo'  God,  I  spec'  de  ole  man's  brain  hab 
been  soft'nin'  fo'  de  las'  yeah.  Ef  he  keeps  up  like 
he  hab  been  goin'  on  lately,  de  reckonin'-day  am  not 
far  away." 

And,  with  a  gesture  of  utter  bewilderment  and  dis- 
gust, she  disappeared  in  the  kitchen. 

How  signal  a  success  was  that  picturesque  banquet 
under  the  good  live-oaks  was  long  remembered  grate- 
fully, alike  by  guests  and  host.  How  triumphant 
were  the  achievements  of  the  aged  Amelia's  cookery, 
and  how  pre-eminently  she  established  her  former 
claim  to  actual  necromancy  in  matters  of  the  cuisine, 
were  ever  thereafter  a  matter  of  frontier  history. 
The  details  of  that  memorable  repast  are  not  strictly 
a  part  of  this  veracious  chronicle.  We  are  not  called 
upon  to  record  how  the  aged  Dallas  carved  and 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  95 

lacerated  the  sinewy  body  of  the  noble  gobbler  that 
had  well-nigh  taken  his  fair  pursuer  with  him  to 
the  happy  hunting-grounds ;  how  Cynthia  arrayed 
herself  in  her  most  gossamer  robes,  with  a  view  to 
paralyzing  the  faultless  Edith,  and  presided  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  festive  board,  flanked  on  either 
side  by  the  patient  "Aulus"  and  the  mischievous 
fawn  ;  how  the  great  turkey  was  served  in  a  tre- 
mendous dish-pan — it  happening  that  there  was  no 
other  utensil  at  the  ranch  sufficiently  large  to  afford 
him  accommodation  ;  how  jokes  were  bandied  as  the 
cheer  went  round  ;  and  how  the  last  drops  of  the  ex- 
tra-proof whisky  which  Sheriff  Moseley  had  donated 
were  lavishly  poured  to  crown  the  cups  of  cheering 
egg  nog  that  passed  from  guest  to  guest ;  and  how, 
above  the  heads  of  the  merry  revelers,  the  hardy 
Texan  oaks  bent  ever  with  a  sturdy  sympathy,  and 
showered  their  bounty  on  that  rural  feast,  dis- 
pensing a  perennial  benison  of  sprays  and  withered 
leaves  that  lent  the  affair,  in  the  words  of  Mrs. 
Phil  Kernochan,  "a  true  picnic  flavor" — all  these 
are  phases  of  the  festivities  less  to  be  dwelt  upon 
than  imagined. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention,  however,  a  musical 
feature  of  this  frontier  dinner.  It  was  at  that  con- 
vivial period  usually  indicated  as  "  across  the  walnuts 
and  the  wine."  The  afternoon  was  declining.  The 
short,  bright  wintry  day  was  losing  itself  in  pensive 
shadows  and  gray  monotone.  Something  of  the  sad- 
ness of  the  approach  of  night  began  to  fall  upon  the 
company,  when  Mrs.  Kernochan  proposed  singing, 
probably  from  a  sense  of  this.  After  various  ineffect- 
ual efforts  to  arouse  the  table  to  the  attempting  of  a 


96  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

chorus,  she  abandoned  these  in  a  personal  appeal  to 
Miss  Stafford  and  Henry  Bruce. 

"  Come,  Edith,"  said  she,  "  you  and  Hal  must 
really  do  something  for  us  ;  sing  that  lovely  thing 
you  have  been  learning  lately  that  is  so  like  a  hope  of 
heaven  in  a  field  of  graves." 

Thus  bidden,  after  the  usual  protestations  of  X>e- 
ing  in  bad  voice  etc. —  afflictions  which  I  observe 
affect  the  amateur  vocalist  quite  as  unremittingly  as 
the  most  capricious  prima  donna — Miss  Edith  lifted 
on  high  a  contralto  so  singularly  rich  and  thrilling, 
that  the  very  mocking-birds  among  the  live-oaks  were 
stricken  mute  with  admiration.  Doubtless  they  were 
charmed,  too,  with  the  tenor  of  Henry  Bruce,  who 
sang  with  that  appreciative  sympathy  which  often 
eclipses  the  work  of  more  accomplished  vocalists. 
About  his  performance,  also,  there  was  a  subtle  sug- 
gestion of  being  quite  in  harmony  with  the  beautiful 
brunette  whose  voice  thrilled  so  passionately  with  his. 
This  was  very  convincing  to  one  of  the  audience. 
She  sat  apart,  quite  dejected  and  alone.  Her  sweet 
eyes  were  downcast,  and,  as  she  raised  them  at  the 
close,  there  was  a  strange  dew  upon  them,  •"  like  wood- 
land violets  newly  wet. "  Yet  lest  you,  my  dear  sir 
or  madam,  fail  to  appreciate  the  pathos  of  this  affect- 
ing duet,  I  subjoin  the  words.  Head  them,  since 
they  are  eloquent  with  a  faith  more  cheering  than 
creed  or  sermon  : 

"  Some  day,  we  say,  and  turn  our  eyes 
Toward  the  fair  hills  of  paradise ; 

Some  day,  some  time,  a  sweet,  new  rest 
Shall  blossom,  flower-like,  in  each  breast ; 


A  XYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  97 

Some  time,  some  day,  our  eyes  shall  see 
The  faces  kept  in  memory ; 

Some  day,  their  hands  shall  clasp  our  hands. 
Just  over  in  the  morning  lands. 

Some  day,  our  ears  shall  hear  the  song 
Of  triumph  over  sin  and  wrong ; 

Some  day,  some  time,  but  oh !  not  yet, 
But  we  will  wait  and  not  forget — 

That,  some  day,  all  these  things  shall  be, 
And  rest  be  given  to  you  and  me. 

So  wait,  my  heart,  though  years  move  slow, 
The  happy  time  will  come,  we  know." 

I  am  afraid,  however,  that  what  most  appealed  to 
our  little  Cynthia,  and  caused  the  singular  dew  above 
alluded  to,  was  a  certain  energy  of  conviction  about 
the  singing  of  the  musical  couple,  and  an  apparent 
belief  in  an  earthly  "rest,"  and  a  "  happy  time,"  that 
would  attend  both,  albeit  their  impatient  hearts  found 
the  years  "moving  slow."  I  am  not  positive,  of 
course,  but  it  would  seem  that  the  circumstantial  evi- 
dence pointed  to  that  conclusion.  I  can  only  say 
that,  when  the  sweet  ballad  ceased  and  the  little  con- 
cert was  at  an  end,  she  was  oppressed  by  a  sudden 
sense  of  loneliness  and  left  the  banquet  quite  abruptly. 
She  hurried  away  to  her  bower,  there  to  confide  her 
disquietude  to  the  circumambient  pines.  What  view 
was  taken  of  her  agitation  by  these  ascetic  mourners 
of  the  wood  I  can  not  say.  I  only  know  that,  after 
Cynthia  had  relieved  her  overburdened  feelings  in  a 
shower  of  passionate  tears,  they  were  as  ignorant  of 
the  cause  of  this  sudden  melancholv  as  their  protegee. 
7 


98  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

Why  was  she  weeping,  pray  ?  She  was  not  in 
love  with  this  fascinating  Mr.  Bruce — she,  Cynthia 
Dallas,  who  knew  nothing  in  nature  altogether  admi- 
rable, save  her  antelope-fawn,  no  loyal  heart,  except 
the  dignified  and  magnanimous  "Aulus."  Where- 
fore, this  gratuitous  thunder-storm  ? 

Nevertheless,  it  was  with  a  feminine  conviction 
that  the  faultless  Miss  Edith  Stafford  had  taken  her 
at  a  very  unfair  disadvantage,  and  wounded  her  in  a 
very  sensitive  spot  by  singing  so  bewitchingly  with 
Henry  Bruce,  that  this  Lone  Star  logician  dried  her 
eyes.  Had  she  sung  badly,  or  been  guilty  of  the 
slightest  discord,  she  could  have  overlooked  it.  But, 
under  the  circumstances,  it  was  altogether  unpardon- 
able. She  had  been  tricked  and  cajoled  !  To  be  sure 
she  entirely  overlooked  in  her  sophistry,  the  fact  that 
Miss  Stafford  had  known  Henry  Bruce  long  before 
she  had  been  favored  with  his  acquaintance,  but  she 
would  have  dismissed  this  reflection  as  irrelevant  had 
it  occurred  to  her.  And  I  think  that,  through  it  all, 
a  vivid  recollection  of  the  air  of  ownership  with 
which  that  lady  had  laid  her  gloved  hand  upon  the 
gentleman's  shoulder,  when  she  had  surprised  them 
together  a  few  hours  since,  still  rankled  in  her  mem- 
ory. What  right,  pray,  had  she  to  treat  him  as  if  he 
were  some  fine-wooled  sheep,  marked  with  her  "road- 
brand,"  and  to  be  claimed  as  an  estray  ? 

She  had  lashed  herself  into  a  tempest  of  indigna- 
tion over  this  last  thought,  when  she  was  startled  by 
some  one  quickly  entering  the  bower.  It  was  Henry 
Bruce.  Cynthia  looked  up  at  his  strong,  athletic 
figure,  and  his  kindly  eyes,  beaming  down  upon  her 
with  a  certain  caressing  glance  quite  inseparable  from 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  99 

his  look  when  interested — a  characteristic,  by-the-way, 
that  was  very  misleading,  and  had  brought  misery 
to  many  a  confiding  feminine  heart — and  it  seemed 
to  her  he  had  never  appeared  so  handsome  before. 
Possibly  jealousy  had  made  her  put  on  her  spec- 
tacles. 

"  Why  are  you  moping  here,  all  alone  by  yourself, 
Cynthia  ? "  he  demanded,  as  if  he  were  reproving 
some  wayward  child.  "  Don't  you  know  we  are 
almost  ready  to  go  ?  The  ladies  are  looking  for  you 
everywhere." 

"  I  don't  care,"  the  girl  replied,  with  charming 
indifference,  turning  away  and  hiding  her  face  in  the 
rough  coat  of  the  antelope,  which  had  gone  calmly  to 
sleep  during  his  mistress's  recent  emotion. 

"Why,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?"  inquired 
the  young  man,  throwing  himself  on  the  ground  be- 
side her  and  taking  one  of  her  hands  gently  in  his. 
It  was  snatched  rudely  away  and  buried  in  the  fur  of 
the  antelope,  but  soon  reappeared  again,  with  an  inde- 
cision of  movement  and  lack  of  repose,  that  seemed  to 
say  eloquently,  "Detain  me,  if  you  please  !"  Bruce 
was  swift  in  his  deductions.  He  took  pity  on  the  flut- 
tering waif.  This  time  it  rested  confidingly  in  both 
his  own.  But  the  face  buried  in  the  fur  of  the  ante- 
lope was  very  restless,  as  if  endeavoring  to  bore  its 
way  into  the  fawn's  innermost  emotions,  and,  after 
some  moments  of  this  distressing  conduct,  Cynthia's 
loosely  gathered  tresses  took  compassion  on  their  owner 
also.  Her  hair  came  down  and  wept  in  golden  rain 
upon  her  shoulders.  Her  agitation  now  suffered  an 
effectual  eclipse. 

After  an  interval  of  what  might  have  been  termed 


100  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

silent  communion,  during  which  Mr.  Bruce  stroked 
fondly  the  little  fingers  within  his  own,  the  gentle- 
man hazarded  a  remark  which  his  knowledge  of  the 
facts  hardly  justified. 

"Are  you  so  sorry  I  am  going  away,  Cynthia  ?" 
he  asked,  apparently  addressing  the  tumbled  mass  of 
golden  hair. 

The  disheveled  locks  were  suddenly  agitated  by  a 
tumultuous  movement  that  was  barely  intelligible. 
Evidently  their  owner  was  nodding  an  assent. 

"Why?"  inquired  Bruce,  ceasing  to  caress  the 
hand. 

A  long  pause.  Finally,  the  usual  reply  came  ap- 
parently from  an  inaccessible  depth,  and  accompanied 
by  a  long-drawn  sigh. 

"Because." 

Bruce  smiled  to  himself — whether  from  gratifica- 
tion or  in  irony  of  the  feminine  reason,  did  not  tran- 
spire. The  gentleman,  not  venturing  upon  any  fur- 
ther inquiry,  nor  hazarding  any  additional  endear- 
ments, the  young  girl  suddenly  sat  up. 

"Do  you  mean  it  ?"  she  said,  regarding  him  wist- 
fully through  the  mist  of  her  tangled  tresses  that 
streamed  in  her  eyes. 

"Mean  what  ?" 

"  That  you  are  really  going  ?  " 

"Certainly." 

"  What  for  ?— so  as  to  be  with  her  ?  " 

"  So  as  to  get  home  and  attend  to  my  business," 
Bruce  replied,  avoiding  the  issue. 

The  girl  swept  her  hair  out  of  her  eyes  with  a  sud- 
den impatient  movement,  and  leveled  her  brows  full 
upon  him. 


A  NYMPH   OF   THE   WEST.  1Q1 

"  Then  she  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  it  ? "  she 
said,  with  a  look  of  relief. 

"  She  will  be  in  the  party,  of  course,  but  that  is 
not  the  reason  of  my  departure,"  he  replied,  truth- 
fully enough. 

Cynthia  was  silent,  apparently  thinking. 

"You'll  come  and  see  me  again?"  she  said,  at 
length. 

"  Of  course  I  will — if  you  wish  it." 

"  I  do,"  she  replied,  frankly. 

Both  were  silent. 

"Henry  Bruce,"  Cynthia  said,  at  last,  lifting  her 
eyes  to  him  with  a  pleading  earnestness,  "there's  go- 
ing to  be  a  ball  over  at  San  Marcus  one  of  these  days, 
and  I  want  you  to  take  me — will  you  do  it  ?  " 

"I  guess  so,"  the  young  man  replied,  indifferent- 
ly— "that  is,  if  nothing  happen  to  prevent.  Have 
you  no  other  escort  ?  " 

Cynthia  scowled. 

"  I  never  saw  the  time  yet  I  had  to  go  round  beg- 
ging," she  replied,  tartly.  "  Captain  Foraker,  I 
reckon,  is  glad  enough  to  get  the  chance.  He's  very 
obliging." 

Bruce  overlooked  the  inference. 

"  When  is  this  remarkable  affair  to  come  off  ?  "  he 
inquired. 

"  About  the  close  of  the  spring  '  round-ups ' — some 
months  off  yet,"  she  replied,  looking  at  him  fixedly, 
and  twisting  the  antelope's  coat  in  a  way  that  must 
have  been  simple  torture. 

"Cynthia,"  said  Bruce,  leaning  toward  her  and 
looking  into  her  eyes,  "I  want  you  to  promise  me 
that  you  won't  let  that  man  take  you  anywhere.  You 


102  A  XYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

must  know,  from  what  your  father  says,  that  his  com- 
pany is  not  creditable  to  any  young  woman — much 
less,  yourself." 

The  girl  looked  down  at  the  fawn. 

"  Say  you'll  take  me,  and  I  will,"  she  stipulated. 

"I  have  already — conditionally,"  Bruce  rejoined. 

"I  know  that,"  said  Cynthia,  "but  I  don't  want 
any  hangin'  fire.  Are  you  thinkin'  of  takin'  that  dark 
girl  ?  "  she  suddenly  inquired. 

"Not  at  all,"  Bruce  answered;  "but  business 
might  prevent.  I  may  have  to  be  at  '  The  Post,'  sell- 
ing my  wool ;  I  might  be  sick — a  thousand  things 
might  happen.  I  can  not  promise." 

"Very  well,"  said  Cynthia,  rising  with  decision, 
but  with  a  disappointed  look.  "Neither  can  I.  I 
reckon  I  hear  your  sweetheart  a-callin'  you.  P'raps 
you  better  be  goin'." 

And,  calling  to  "Aulus"and  the  antelope,  she 
whisked  suddenly  out  of  the  bower. 

Bruce  returned  to  the  ranch  with  a  feeling  of  dis- 
comfiture. He  had  the  welfare  of  Miss  Dallas  sin- 
cerely at  heart.  He  had  decided  to  warn  her  against 
the  attentions  of  Captain  Foraker,  of  whose  indiscrimi- 
nate and  heartless  gallantries  he  had  long  been  aware. 
But  he  had  met  with  rebuff,  and  was  naturally  cha- 
grined. 

He  found  his  companions  mounted  and  impatiently 
awaiting  him.  Phil  Kernochan  was  holding  the 
bridle-rein  of  a  small  sorrel  pony,  already  saddled  for 
the  journey. 

Bruce  delayed  only  to  shake  the  horny  hand  of  his 
host  and  wave  a  farewell  to  the  ebony  Amelia,  who 
was  standing  in  the  doorway  of  her  quarters.  Cynthia 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  103 

was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Springing  into  the  stirrups 
of  the  sorrel,  he  rode  away  with  the  rest,  absorbed  in 
his  gloomy  reflections. 

But  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house,  what  seemed 
to  him  to  be  the  loud  chirrup  of  a  ground-squirrel 
caused  him  to  look  up,  as  he  rode  far  in  the  rear  of 
the  cavalcade. 

They  were  just  passing  a  pile  of  rocks  on  the  crest 
of  a  western  divide.  On  the  topmost  pinnacle  of  this 
natural  elevation  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Cynthia, 
seated  in  her  gossamer  robes,  an  arm  thrown  about 
each  of  her  inseparable  companions.  A  light  breeze 
stirred  the  disheveled  masses  of  her  golden  hair,  which 
she  had  not  yet  taken  the  trouble  to  rearrange.  She 
smiled  down  upon  him  serenely  from  the  inaccessible 
height.  Bruce  waved  her  a  parting  greeting  with  his 
heavy  riding  quirt.  As  he  did  so,  he  saw  her  bend 
forward  eagerly,  and,  with  the  rosy  tips  of  her  little 
fingers,  fling  him  a  dainty  kiss. 


VII. 

SPRING  had  crossed  the  Lone  Star  border.  Al- 
ready the  gentle  slopes,  that  bordered  the  Mesquite 
Valley  Ranch,  were  donning  an  emerald  livery,  and 
hiding  in  their  sunny  hollows  an  odorous  labyrinth  of 
poly-tinted  flowers.  The  live  oaks  were  throwing 
down  upon  the  brown  earth  a  cloud  of  sprays  and 
seed-vessels,  coloring  their  dusky  leaves  with  lighter 
green,  and  with  a  cheerful  gayety  stepping  into  the 
opening  quadrille  of  summer.  The  mocking-birds, 
crazy  with  joy,  wantoned  from  every  tree-top,  flicker- 
ing to  and  fro  in  their  half-mourning  plumes,  and 
courting  their  modest  sweethearts  with  a  deliriousness 
of  melody  that  was  very  contagious.  Even  the  jack- 
rabbit,  roused  from  his  form  by  the  stumbling  way- 
farer, had  less  of  sarcasm  than  common  in  his  droll 
blink,  as  he  limped  away.  Mirth  romped  in  the  val- 
leys, and  laughed  on  the  divides.  And  domestic  life 
at  the  Mesquite  Valley  Ranch  took  on  a  livelier  in- 
terest as  the  season  demanded. 

But  the  plans  of  that  good  fellow,  Phil  Keruochan, 
had  met  with  disappointment,  and  he  chafed  with 
chagrin,  and  pulled  his  blonde  mustache  in  his  most 
approved,  nervous  manner,  as  was  his  habit  when 
business  vexed  him.  He  had  intended  building  a 
large  barn  and  stable  that  should  rival,  in  the  mag- 


A  NYMPH   OF   THE   WEST.  1Q5 

nificence  of  its  appointments,  the  commodious  ranch 
of  which  he  was  so  justly  proud.  The  cellar  had 
been  dug,  the  timber  purchased  and  carted,  the  car- 
penters and  assistants  hired,  when  his  builder — the 
man  to  whom  he  had  confided  all  his  pet  schemes  and 
projects — suddenly  died  of  apoplexy.  Kernochan 
was  highly  indignant.  The  misfortune  put  him  out 
of  all  patience  with  the  genial  and  forward  season. 

He  burst  abruptly  into  the  sitting-room,  one  bright 
April  morning,  with  an  open  letter  in  his  hand,  quite 
startling  Edith,  who  was  writing  at  a  small  escri- 
toire, and  even  causing  Bruce,  who  was  playing  the 
guitar,  to  narrowly  escape  dropping  the  instrument. 

"AVell,  upon  my  word,  Phil  !"  the  latter  remon- 
strated. "  What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Matter  enough  ! "  Kernochan  rejoined,  surlily. 
"  Here's  my  boss-builder,  the  man  I  relied  on  to  put 
those  improvements  through,  gone  and  died  just  when 
I  was  about  to  begin.  It's  rather  rough  papers  on  the 
head  of  the  house  ! "  He  threw  the  letter  on  the  floor, 
thrust  both  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  strode  away 
to  the  window. 

Bruce  took  a  long  puff  at  his  cigar  before  he  re- 
plied, but  his  hazel  eyes  twinkled  with  the  humor  of 
the  situation. 

"  I  presume,  inasmuch  as  you  had  taken  the  trou- 
ble to  get  everything  ready  for  him,  you  regard  it  as 
rather  disobliging  in  him  to  die — not  to  say  unprin- 
cipled," he  replied,  with  quiet  sarcasm.  "  I  say,  Phil, 
I  have  an  idea  ! " 

"Keep  it  !"  returned  Phil  ;  "you'll  need  it  be- 
fore, we  get  through  with  this  business." 

"I  had  hoped,"  said  Henry  Bruce,  with  mock 


106  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

gravity,  "  that  I  had  emigrated  too  far  south,  at  last, 
for  any  one  to  attempt  to  perpetrate  that  venerable 
'chestnut'  upon  his  fellow-man.  But  I  see  I  am  a 
victim  of  misplaced  confidence.  I  must  have  a  short 
canter  to  escape  any  disastrous  effects. — Edith,  what 
do  you  say  to  a  little  trip  this  morning  on  horseback  ? 
I  lost  my  meerschaum  yesterday,  somewhere  between 
here  and  the  lone  camp  at  the  'Soldier's  Water-Hole.' 
I  thought  I  would  go  out  and  look  it  up. 

"  The  pipe  I  gave  you,  do  you  mean  ?"  Edith  in- 
quired. "Then,  that's  the  last  of  it,  rest  assured. 
I  should  be  glad  enough  of  the  ride,  but  a  more  evi- 
dent wild-goose  chase  was  never  attempted.  You  are 
not  serious,  Hal,  that  you  expect  to  find  it  ?" 

"  Why  not,  pray  ?  "  Bruce  rejoined.  "  I  know  the 
general  direction,  and,  if  necessary,  can  trail  my 
horse's  tracks.  I  have  not  a  doubt  I  shall  find  it.  It 
is  only  a  matter  of  five  miles — a  mere  bagatelle.  I 
found  five  newspapers  and  a  letter  I  lost  once,  pony- 
back,  over  twice  that  stretch  of  country." 

"  Well,  I  do  not  mind  accompanying  you,  to  show 
you  how  absurd  the  effort  is,  if  for  no  other  reason," 
Miss  Stafford  replied.  "  There  !  "  pounding  the 
stamp  on  the  envelope  she  had  just  directed  with  her 
dark,  jeweled  hand.  "  Wait  for  me  at  the  gate,  and 
have  the  horses  brought  around.  I'll  be  down  in  a 
minute." 

It  was  a  bright  morning,  so  clear  that  the  Llano 
Mountains,  on  the  farther  horizon,  seemed  distant 
scarcely  a  stone's-throw.  The  air  was  redolent  of  per- 
fume and  warmth.  The  scissor-tails,  baring  their  rosy 
bosoms  to  the  sun,  sat  upright  in  the  tops  of  the  mes- 
quites  at  every  turn,  surveying  the  emerald  landscape 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  107 

with  a  dignity  and  serenity  worthy  of  a  much  larger 
bird.  At  times  they  ventured  upon  a  slow  and  la- 
bored flight,  piloting  their  trailing  plumes  like  some 
spent  arrow  too  heavily  feathered.  A  few  summer 
duck — the  harlequin  camp-followers  of  that  army  of 
water-fowl  that  had  beset  the  creeks  and  pools  in  the 
early  season — whirred  away  as  they  approached  each 
prairie  water-course. 

Bruce  and  Edith  checked  their  horses  in  a  grassy 
valley,  opening  before  them  in  long  vistas  of  portu- 
laca  and  wild  verbena  and  purple  "buffalo-clover." 
A  delicious  odor  rose  upon  and  enveloped  them.  The 
feet  of  their  horses  seemed  to  be  treading  perfume. 
They  were  literally  swimming  in  a  sea  of  scents  far 
more  delicate  than  the  rarest  treasures  of  Kimmel  or 
Lubin. 

Edith  inhaled  the  sweet  air,  and  drank  in  the 
tropical  luxuriance  of  the  prospect  with  a  cry  of  de- 
light. 

"How  beautiful!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  declare, 
Hal,  it  seems  a  pity  to  ride  through  this  natural  par- 
terre." 

"Why  so  ?"  returned  Bruce,  with  a  man's  indif- 
ference for  the  delicate  and  perishable.  "  Besides, 
there  are  acres  and  acres,  just  like  this,  that  we  shall 
never  see." 

They  sat  regarding  the  prismatic  hues  of  the  val- 
ley, stretching  before  them  in  one  woven  carpet  of 
color.  A  small,  cotton-tail  rabbit,  that  had  been 
eying  them  from  the  vantage  of  a  neighboring  bush, 
was  taken  with  a  sudden  panic  and  skurried  away 
through  the  purple  billows,  leaving  the  track  of  his 
frightened  course  visible  in  a  tossing  wake. 


108  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

"  If  you  dropped  your  meerschaum  in  any  such 
tangle  as  that,  Hal,"  said  Miss  Stafford,  following  the 
animal  by  the  sudden  commotion  among  the  flowers, 
"we  may  as  well  give  up  the  search  at  once." 

"  Granted,"  replied  Bruce,  courteously,  patting 
his  pony's  neck  ;  "  but  you  see,  my  dear,  I  didn't.  I 
merely  brought  you  down  this  way  to  show  you  what 
Texas  could  do  in  the  line  of  landscape-gardening.  I 
doubt  if  you  find  its  equal  anywhere  in  the  East." 

"You  are  very  considerate  as  well  as  endearing, 
this  morning,"  the  young  lady  replied.  "Why  is  it 
you  invariably  choose  these  remote  situations  to  dis- 
play your  affection  ?  You  might,  at  least,  give  me  the 
satisfaction  of  an  audience." 

Bruce  was  silent  a  few  seconds.  He  did  not  ap- 
preciate Miss  Stafford's  raillery  when  he  dispensed 
with  the  conventionalities. 

"It  is  always  your  way,  Edith,"  he  said,  reproach- 
fully, "to  meet  all  sincerity  with  skepticism  and  ca- 
price. These  complimentary  speeches,  delivered  to 
order,  and  in  the  presence  of  others,  have  little  to 
recommend  them  but  flattery  ;  and  you  are  well  aware 
of  it." 

"  They  are  none  the  less  agreeable  to  a  woman's 
vanity,"  replied  the  fair  equestrienne,  turning  her 
horse  aside  to  peer  into  the  nest  of  a  mocking-bird  in 
a  dwarf  mesquite. 

The  courageous  thrush  flew  at  her  with  trailing 
wings,  forcing  her  to  strike  at  it  with  her  riding-whip. 

"  Ah  !  Hal,"  she  said,  raising  a  finger  at  him 
archly  when  this  little  episode  was  over,  "  that  is  a 
singular  organ,  that  susceptible  heart  of  yours.  Quite 
a  remarkable  piece  of  mechanism  in  its  way.  "What 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  109 

with  your  Northern  inamoratas  and  these  Texan 
heroines,  it  must  be  pretty  well  honeycombed  by  this 
time." 

Bruce  laughed. 

"  There  are  traces  of  old  scars,"  he  said,  gravely, 
as  they  rode  on  together,  "but  it  is  still  intact,  my 
lady." 

"Can  you  still  be  sent  on  errands  as  formerly  ?" 
she  inquired,  stopping  suddenly. 

Bruce  reined  up  his  mustang. 

"On  yours — always,"  he  said. 

"  As  gallant  as  ever,  she  returned.  "  I  thought  for 
the  moment  you  were  addressing  Miss  Dallas." 

"  As  sincere"  said  the  young  man  with  emphasis, 
not  noticing  the  implied  satire  of  her  last  remark. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  careless  brunette,  the  color 
dyeing  her  clear,  olive  complexion  as  she  turned  to- 
ward him,  her  beautiful  face  flushed  with  the  exhila- 
rating exercise,  "  I  dropped  my  riding- whip,  I  think, 
just  after  my  encounter  with  that  bold  little  bird  a 
few  rods  back.  "Won't  you  ride  back,  please,  and 
verify  your  pretensions  to  wood-craft  ?  " 

She  pushed  one  little  foot  free  from  the  folds  of 
her  habit  as  she  said  this,  and  critically  regarded  the 
silver  spur  with  which  it  was  adorned.  She  had  a  pre- 
occupied, serious  air. 

Bruce  glanced  at  her  admiringly  as  she  preferred 
this  modest  request.  The  little,  glossy,  black  beaver 
had  not  been  put  into  requisition  that  morning,  there 
being  no  likelihood  of  feminine  criticism,  and  con- 
sequently no  necessity  for  overawing  envious  woman- 
hood with  the  faultlessness  of  her  get-up.  She  wore, 
instead,  a  velvet  turban — the  product  of  her  own  taste 


HO  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  ingenuity — surmounted  by  the  extended  wings 
and  tail  of  a  blue  jay.  It  was  mightily  becoming. 
Miss  Stafford  knew  it.  She  was  also  aware  that  she 
was  never  more  fascinating  than  when  on  horseback. 

This  conviction  dawned  upon  Bruce  as  he  caught 
the  graceful  curves  of  her  lithe  figure,  the  soft  glow 
of  health  in  her  cheek,  the  languorous  light  of  her 
dark  eyes,  and  the  brown  masses  of  hair  but  carelessly 
confined  and  slipping  to  her  shoulder.  He  put  spurs 
to  his  mustang  and  was  soon  riding  about  where  they 
had  halted,  trampling  down  the  clustering  flowers  in 
the  vain  attempt  to  secure  the  missing  whip. 

Miss  Stafford  remained  quiet  in  the  saddle  without 
looking  back.  There  was  a  mischievous  smile  about 
her  coquettish  mouth.  Her  hands  toying  with  her 
pony's  mane,  she  became  interested  in  studying  the 
movements  of  a  chaparral-cock  that  sat  shading  him- 
self beneath  the  filmy  veil  of  a  budding  mesquite. 
The  monkish  bird  had  evidently  returned  from  early 
mass,  and  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the  solemnity 
of  the  ceremony.  His  very  piety  seemed  to  oppress 
him.  He  turned  his  grave  head  from  side  to  side, 
like  a  gloomy  friar  beneath  his  cowl — "  each  eye  a  ser- 
mon and  his  brow  a  homily."  It  was  evident  that 
the  promise  of  his  youth  had  been  blighted  by  the 
vanity  of  all  earthly  things. 

The  young  girl  soon  wearied  of  his  somber  gravity. 
Then  she  drew  from  some  extemporized  hiding-place 
the  missing  whip.  She  held  it  critically  in  her  gloved 
fingers.  The  ivory  handle  bore  a  crest  with  shield 
and  chevron,  and  the  legend,  "Fac  et  Spera." 

The  quick  snapping  of  a  twig  caused  her  to  look 
up.  She  caught  her  breath  with  a  sudden  murmur  of 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

delight.  Scarcely  ten  yards  away  a  magnificent  buck 
had  halted  in  the  act  of  crossing  her  path,  startled  by 
the  apparition  of  her  mounted  presence. 

The  beautiful  creature  stood  knee-deep  among  the 
flowers  as  if  suddenly  turned  to  stone.  His  branching 
antlers  had  that  soft,  tender  bloom  that  is  almost  pain- 
ful to  the  spectator,  and  technically  known  as  "  the 
velvet."  His  wide-open  eyes  stared  at  the  intruder, 
and  the  delicate,  quivering  nostrils  alone  gave  evidence 
of  the  graceful  bounding  life  sleeping  in  the  delicate 
limbs. 

For  nearly  a  minute  they  quietly  confronted  one 
another,  and  a  critical  observer  would  have  been 
puzzled  to  determine  in  which  there  was  more  of 
beauty — the  startled,  steadfast  gaze  of  this  forest  para- 
gon, or  the  rapt,  fascinated  expression  of  the  gazelle- 
eyed  girl.  Then  the  tension  of  the  breathless  tableau 
grew  annoying.  Miss  Stafford  raised  herself  in  her 
stirrup,  and  flung  her  whip  at  the  breathing  statue 
with  the  impotence  of  womanhood. 

The  deer  started,  took  a  neighboring  bush  with  a 
leap  of  exquisite  grace,  and,  a  second  after,  was  visi- 
ble only  as  a  dusky  object,  flying  with  the  speed  of  the 
wind  down  the  many-vistaed  valley,  and  waving  a 
white  banner  that  caricatured  the  fleetness  of  its  move- 
ments. 

The  animal  had  scarcely  taken  its  arrowy  bound, 
when  a  rifle  cracked,  and  a  bullet  came  whistling  by 
the  startled  Edith,  clipping  a  twig  a  short  distance  in 
front  of  her. 

She  turned  in  her  saddle.  Bruce  was  riding  to- 
ward her,  restoring  a  small  carbine  to  its  leathern 
holster  as  he  rode,  a  faint  blue  smoke  still  streaming 


112  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

from  the  muzzle.  There  was  the  spice  of  gunpowder 
on  the  morning  air. 

"What  on  earth  did  you  frighten  him  for?"  he 
said,  petulantly,  as  he  rode  forward  and  dismounted 
to  pick  up  the  fallen  whip.  "  If  you  had  not  sent 
me  back  on  that  fool's  errand,  I  should  certainly  have 
shot  him." 

"You  mean  to  say  you  would  have  killed  the 
beautiful  thing,  you  cruel  fellow  ?  "  almost  screamed 
Edith,  taking  tbe  restored  missile  without  an  apology 
for  her  previous  duplicity.  "I'm  glad  I  did  it, 
then.  However,  I  thought  you  ought  to  be  reminded, 
sir,  that  it  was  the  1st  of  April.  You  are  in  alto- 
gether too  high  feather  this  morning  to  be  endur- 
able." 

They  turned  into  a  narrow  trail  between  two  slop- 
ing hills.  A  large  pecan  motte  was  visible*  at  its  far- 
ther end,  making  the  little  cafion  a  veritable  cul-de- 
sac.  Suddenly  a  volley  of  shots  from  cracking  "  six- 
shooters  "  startled  them  from  the  non-committal  quiet 
that  had  fallen  upon  them.  A  few  yards  in  front  of 
them  a  drove  of  piebald  hogs  charged  wildly  down  the 
hill,  followed  by  several  horsemen  fiercely  shouting, 
and  shooting  into  them  at  every  leap  of  their  running 
mustangs.  The  coarse  bristles  of  several  of  the  fleeing 
porkers  were  laced  with  blood. 

Edith  clasped  her  hands  in  dismay,  her  pony 
stopping  short  in  his  tracks  at  this  sudden  apparition 
of  bloodshed.  In  a  few  seconds  the  noisy  chase  had 
swept  through  the  canon,  the  mounted  men  scarcely 
noting  them  in  the  excitement  of  the  pursuit. 

Bruce  reined  up  his  horse  with  an  angry  jerk  upon 
the  bridle. 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  H3 

There  is  Lem  Wickson's  lawless  gang  again  !"  he 
exclaimed.  "  And,  as  usual,  at  their  old  tricks." 

He  dashed  away  a  few  paces  into  the  underbrush. 
A  large  hoar  had  fallen  in  the  thicket,  faint  from  loss 
of  blood.  Weak  as  it  was,  the  fierce  animal  raised 
itself  upon  its  haunches  and  glared  at  him  with  its 
wicked  eyes,  gnashing  its  distorted  tusks  besmeared 
with  blood  and  foam.  Bruce  recognized  at  once  the 
conspicuous  "paint-brand"  of  Alcides  Dallas — a  large 
red  "A.  D."  upon  the  animal's  hip. 

He  rode  back  to  Edith  with  a  grim  look  upon  his 
usually  frank  features. 

"This  sort  of  thing  will  not  do,  little  woman," 
he  remarked,  raising  his  broad  hat  and  wiping  his 
forehead. 

"  Why  don't  you  write  them  a  note  and  tell  them 
to  stop  it — that  you  do  not  like  it,  at  all  ?  "  Edith 
advised,  with  a  knowledge  of  frontier  etiquette  that 
was  ingenuous  and  charming. 

"How  would  you  word  it?"  inquired  her  com- 
panion, a  smile  struggling  to  his  lips  in  spite  of  his 
irritation.  "  Something  like  this  ?  *  Mr.  Henry  Bruce 
presents  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Lemuel  Wickson  and 
his  assistants,  and  regrets  to  say  that  he  personally 
objects  to  their  shooting  stray  hogs  on  his  premises  ? ' 
It  strikes  me  that  is  precisely  what  the  occasion  de- 
mands— some  such  delicate  treatment.  Thanks  for 
the  suggestion  ! " 

"Oh,  bother!"  replied  Miss  Stafford,  blushing 
bewitchingly  under  his  irony. 

"I'm  afraid,  Edith,  you  do  not  appreciate  the 
frankness  of  popular  feeling  in  respect  to  outrages  of 
this  kind.  When  this  return  to  barbarism  is  detected 

8 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

upon  the  frontier,  especially  if,  as  in  the  present  case, 
horse-stealing  is  united  to  the  misdemeanor,  a  lariat 
and  a  live-oak  limb  is  the  usual  form  of  remonstrance." 

"You  mean  they  hang  them?"  said  Edith, 
breathlessly. 

"I  mean  that  Judge  Lynch  usually  decrees  that 
penalty." 

"  How  dreadful ! "  exclaimed  the  girl,  whipping 
up  her  pony  smartly  and  dashing  away,  as  if  to  escape 
the  recollection. 

"  One  moment,  Edith  ! "  shouted  Bruce,  spurring 
after.  "  We — are — about  —  approaching — our — ren- 
dezvous." He  enunciated  his  words  with  difficulty  as 
their  horses  plunged  forward. 

"  Pardon  me  !  "  said  Miss  Stafford,  seeing  this, 
and  stopping  at  once.  "  What  have  you  to  say  ?" 

"  We  are  near  the  *'  lone  camp,' "  said  Bruce,  halting 
also.  "You  may  possibly  get  a  momentary  glimpse 
of  a  queer  being — one  of  the  strangest  instances  of 
ill-starred  destiny  that  I  have  ever  met — a  college- 
bred  man,  mature,  able-bodied,  and  withal  the  best- 
read  and  most  cultured  individual  it  has  ever  been 
my  fortune  to  meet." 

"  You  astound  me  ! "  said  the  girl,  her  eyes  wide 
with  amazement.  "Such  a  man  as  you  describe, 
herding  sheep  at  twenty  dollars  a  month  ?" 

"  Exactly.  A  man  who  quotes  Milton  with 
fluency,  and  who  draws  upon  his  memory  when  he 
wishes  to  consult  Shakespeare  and  Byron." 

"Why,  tell  me  about  this  wonderful  shepherd," 
Edith  requested  ;  "  he  interests  me." 

"  There  isn't  very  much  more  to  tell,  except  that 
he  is  something  of  a  hermit,  seems'to  prefer  this  sort 


A   NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST.  H5 

of  solitary  life,  and  reads,  all  the  while,  the  oddest 
books  you  can  imagine.  I  found  him  poring  over 
Apuleius  the  other  day.  He's  a  sort  of  'Manfred,' 
with  his  satanic  gloom  left  out.  Now  I  think  of  it, 
didn't  it  strike  you  as  strange  that  Cynthia  should 
have  named  that  old  hound  of  hers  '  Aulus '  ?  I 
puzzled  over  it  a  good  deal.  I  understand,  however, 
that  this  old  fellow  gave  her  that  dog  when  it  was 
only  a  pup.  At  any  rate,  the  donor  answers  to  his 
description.  The  mystery  now  is  perfectly  clear. 
Don't  you  remember,  in  Macaulay,  'Aulus  the  dicta- 
tor— the  man  of  seventy  fights  ? '  " 

"Yes,  indeed  —  what  an  excellent  name!  It 
haunts  you.  And  I  suppose  the  character  of  that 
dignified  monster  is  thoroughly  in  keeping  with  his 
cognomen." 

"Quite,  I  imagine.  Cynthia  tells  me  that  she 
never  goes  to  San  Marcus  that  he  does  not  attack  and 
whip  half  the  dogs  in  the  village." 

They  had  reached  the  "lone  camp"  at  last.  Its 
appearance  was  forlorn  enough — a  small  tent,  stained 
and  discolored  with  the  weather,  its  cords  relaxed, 
its  open  fly  fluttering  in  the  wind  ;  within,  a  few 
tumbled  blankets  and  articles  of  clothing,  presided 
over  by  a  hurricane-lantern  tied  to  the  ridge-pole 
and  permeating  the  interior  with  its  odor  of  kerosene. 
The  scant  cooking-utensils  of  the  solitary  were  lit- 
tered about — an  iron  pot  containing  boiled  beans,  a 
skillet,  several  empty  tomato-cans,  and  a  dilapidated 
frying-pan  that  had  seen  better  days.  These  refugees 
of  the  kitchen  were  broiling  in  the  noontide  sun.  A 
side  of  bacon  hung  from  a  neighboring  tree.  But  no 
trace  of  the  occupant  of  this  dreary  outpost  of  civili- 


116  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

zation  was  visible  about  the  ashes  of  the  camp-fire 
that  betrayed  his  former  presence. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  Edith,  with  an 
expression  of  disgust,  that  a  man  of  such  tastes  as 
you  describe,  passes  his  days  in  such  a  den  as  this  ?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Bruce — "and  without  complain- 
ing. He  seems  to  desire  nothing  except  what  will 
satisfy  his  bodily  wants.  I  am  sorry  that  he  is  not 
about,  so  that  you.  might  have  a  glimpse  of  him. 
Perhaps  we  will  fall  in  with  him  on  the  way  back." 

They  rode  rapidly  away.  Half-way  down  the  little 
cation  they  passed  an  odd  figure,  sitting  remote  and 
lonely  upon  a  high  rock,  and  smoking  a  short  clay 
pipe.  He  was  without  a  coat,  and  had  thrown  about 
his  shoulders  a  gray  blanket,  extemporized  for  a  gar- 
ment. He  wore  a  large  slouch  hat,  somewhat  battered 
and  faded  by  exposure  to  the  weather.  His  long,  un- 
kempt, gray  beard  streamed  down  upon  his  breast, 
and  his  eyes  had  a  wild  and  frenzied  expression.  His 
scant  trousers  were  worn  through  in  places,  exposing 
a  substratum  of  red  flannel  at  the  knees,  and  between 
the  tops  of  his  hobnailed  shoes  and  his  retreating 
breeches  was  an  appalling  display  of  gaunt  and  re- 
luctant ankles.  One  might  have  been  pardoned  for 
imagining  that  the  bare  apparition  of  these  monstrosi- 
ties had  struck  terror  into  his  nether  garments,  im- 
pelling them  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat  up  the  calves  of 
his  legs. 

When  they  were  riding  down  the  cafion  again, 
Bruce  asked  Miss  Stafford  what  she  thought  of  his 
literary  peripatetic. 

"I  hardly  know  what  to  say,"  said  she,  checking 
her  pony  by  the  side  of  a  small  spring  that  brawled 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  H7 

over  its  pebbly  bed,  and  dripped  its  tinkling  overflow 
into  a  rocky  basin.  "  The  idea  of  a  walking  encyclo- 
paedia and  dictionary  of  poetical  quotation  here  in  the 
wilds !  And  to  think  of  that  creature  burning  the 
midnight  oil,  as  he  must,  to  have  acquired  this  knowl- 
edge, and  wasting  his  sweetness  on  the  desert  air  in 
this  agonizing  fashion — it  is  too  dreadful !  I  verily 
believe,  from  what  you  tell  me,  that  the  man  is 
another  Macaulay,  and  that  he  might  hope  to  realize 
his  famous  boast  and  reproduce  the  '  Paradise  Lost.' ' 

It  was  very  still.  The  soft  tones  of  her  animated 
voice  had  died  away.  Only  the  musical  clink  of  the 
fountain,  knocking  its  silver  heels  against  the  rock 
as  it  tripped  gayly  on  its  way  ;  while,  a  solitary  mocker, 
perched  upon  a  filmy  mesquite-spray,  attempted  a 
liquid  measure  in  rivalry  at  infrequent  intervals.  The 
blue  sky  bent  brightly  overhead. 

Somehow  a  strange  ecstatic  feeling  woke  in  the 
heart  of  the  young  man  as  he  sat  in  the  saddle,  gazing 
at  the  bright  face  before  him  framed  against  the  soft, 
green  foliage  of  the  budding  trees.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  her  words  to  awaken  it.  Surely  Milton  and 
Macaulay  are  not  cup-bearers  to  Cupid.  Yet  they 
lingered  aimlessly  by  the  laughing  fountain.  Anon  a 
bright-winged  butterfly — it  might  have  been  the  airy 
Psyche  of  the  mischievous  god  himself — came  floating 
through  the  sheltered  coolness  of  the  grove  upon  its 
listless  pinions  : 

"Sweet,  sweet,  sweet  god  Pan! 

Blinding  sweet  by  the  river ! 
The  sun  on  the  hills  forgot  to  die, 
And  the  lily  revived,  and  the  dragon-fly 

Carae  back  to  dream  by  the  river." 


118  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

Miss  Stafford  had  drawn  off  the  little  kid  gauntlet 
she  had  worn  all  the  morning,  and  the  small  brown 
hand,  "all  heavy  with  its  weight  of  rings,"  rested 
lightly  on  the  saddle-pommel. 

"  Edith,"  said  Bruce,  leaning  forward  in  his  sad- 
dle, and  taking  the  soft  fingers  in  his,  "  I  have  long 
wished  to  tell  you  something." 

The  "cool,  flower-like  hand"  rested  a  second  in 
his  own  burning  clasp.  It  was  as  suddenly  withdrawn 
with  a  little  triumphant  cry. 

"Why,  there  it  is,  after  all !"  she  said,  pointing 
to  something  lying  among  the  moss  at  their  horses' 
feet.  Bruce,  thus  suddenly  recalled  to  the  present 
and  the  practical,  looked  quickly  down.  The  lost 
meerschaum,  with  its  grinning  skull,  stared  up  at  him 
from  the  ground  below.  Was  ever  Love's  communion 
interrupted  by  discovery  so  mal  a  propos  I 


VIII. 

A  TKIO  of  mounted  men  rode  up  to  the  "  Mesquite 
Valley  Ranch."  They  were  dusty  and  travel-worn, 
and  the  horses  they  bestrode  were  jaded  and  flecked 
with  the  foam  of  hard  riding.  At  the  ranch-gate  they 
halted,  and  the  central  figure  of  the  group— a  small 
man  with  a  slouching  seat  in  the  saddle — removed  his 
distinguishing  sombrero,  and  wiped  the  perspiration 
from  his  high  forehead. 

"By  the  Lord!"  he  exclaimed,  dashing  a  hard, 
small  hand  across  his  eyes  with  a  quick,  impatient 
gesture,  "how  the  sun  glares  to-day!  Whether  it's 
my  bein'  up  so  much  nights,  or  thet  Lampasas  whisky, 
I  kin  skursely  see  my  hand  afore  my  face.  Dick, 
chuck  me  over  thet  flask  of  '  tarantala-juice '  ! " 

Thus  commanded,  the  individual  addressed — one 
Mr.  Jake  Sharp,  of  choleric  memory — extracted  from 
his  ducking-jacket  a  large  tin  pocket-companion, 
known  on  the  frontier  as  a  "silent  comforter,"  and 
tossed  it  to  his  comrade.  He  was  a  big,  muscular 
man  of  the  Herculean  type,  and  he  flung  the  flask 
from  him  as  if  it  had  been  a  feather.  The  other 
caught  it  deftly. 

"  A-ah  ! "  ejaculated  the  first  speaker,  clearing  his 
throat  after  throwing  his  head  back  and  partaking 


120  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

freely  of  its  contents,  "that  stuff  takes  hold,  whether 
it's  damagin'  or  otherwise.  I  feel  refreshed  a'ready. 
'Humly  Jim,'  will  you  irrigate  ?" 

The  third  party,  addressed  hy  this  uncompliment- 
ary title,  exhibited  the  customary  frontier  alacrity  in 
alcoholic  matters,  and  reached  out  a  hand  for  the 
liquid  refreshment,  more  or  less  disfigured  by  scars 
and  "tetters." 

He  was  not  a  prepossessing  object.  His  long,  lank 
hair  fell  down  upon  his  coat-collar.  His  beard  was 
straggling  and  untrimmed  ;  and  his  nose  was  gone, 
— that  is  to  say,  the  nostrils  were  there,  but  only  in 
the  shape  of  two  rifts  or  fissures  in  his  disfigured  face, 
the  bridge  of  that  distinguishing  feature  having  been 
literally  plowed  away  by  a  six-shooter  bullet  in  a  duel 
at  close  quarters. 

Despite  the  disorder  of  his  dress,  due  to  dust  and 
hard  riding,  the  small  stature  of  the  first  speaker,  his 
heavy  mustache,  bald  forehead,  and  nervous  manner 
revealed  Sheriff  Mosely  of  Oskaloo.  He  blew  the  few 
remaining  drops  of  spirit  from  his  huge  mustachios, 
and  tweaked  them  fiercely  as  he  dismounted. 

"  I  reckon  we  better  tie  up  till  the  sun  gets  down 
a  little,"  he  said  to  his  companions.  "I  ain't  very 
well  known  here,  but  if  thet  chap,  Kernochan,  is  as 
likely  a  feller  as  his  pardner,  Henry  Bruce,  we  won't 
get  no  slouch  of  a  reception.  Ye  might  give  '  Smitha- 
reens'  a  feed  of  corn  afore  ye  come  in." 

With  this  considerate  suggestion  for  the  welfare 
of  his  mare — a  long-limbed,  gaunt,  ill-favored  roan — 
he  unslung  his  revolvers  from  his  saddle-pommel,  and 
strode  away  to  the  porch,  buckling  on  his  holster-belt 
as  he  went. 


A  NYMPH   OF   THE   WEST.  121 

The  afternoon  sunshine  was  slumbering  on  the 
broad  veranda.  A  pair  of  Scotch  greyhounds  raised 
themselves  lazily  from  the  door-stone,  and  barked  at 
the  stranger.  The  quick  rustling  of  a  woman's  dress, 
and  a  vision  of  fluttering  ribbons  and  flying  braids,  as 
she  hurried  into  the  house,  indicated  that  the  fair 
Kate  had  also  been  surprised  by  the  arrival. 

"Dog  gone  it!  thet's  a  woman  all  over!"  ex- 
claimed the  sheriff,  halting  in  his  tracks,  and  patting 
the  heads  of  the  dogs  who  fawned  upon  him.  No 
dumb  animal  could  long  resist  the  approaches  of  Ike, 
much  less  anything  of  the  canine  type.  He  possessed 
the  true  sportsman's  touch,  and  they  detected  it  at  once. 

"Thet's  a  woman  every  time!"  continued  Mr. 
Mosely,  confiding  a  knowing  wink  to  the  posts  of  the 
front  gallery.  "  She's  prob'ly  gone  in  to  slick  up. 
It's  no  use,  tho' !  I've  been  tryin'  to  impress  it  on  the 
female  sex,  fur  the  best  part  of  a  wearin'  life,  thet  they 
hain't  no  power,  natchally,  over  the  Sheriff  of  Oska- 
loo." 

In  spite  of  the  emphatic  protest  of  Mr.  Ike  Mosely 
in  regard  to  the  invulnerability  of  his  affections,  it 
was  quite  noticeable  that,  having  mounted  the  steps, 
he  took  the  opportunity  of  surveying  his  warlike  un- 
dersize  in  the  soft  mirror  of  the  ranch-window,  and 
actually  passed  his  short  fingers  through  his  scanty 
locks,  as  he  sank  down  in  the  luxurious  reclining-chair. 
A  small  handkerchief  with  polka  dots — one  of  those 
delicate  trifles  that  femininity  affects — was  crumpled 
up  in  the  fur  of  the  great  buffalo-robe.  Ike  took  it 
up  carelessly.  It  was  redolent  of  a  delicate  perfume, 
and  pleasantly  suggested  the  owner.  He  raised  it 
reverently  to  his  lips. 


122  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  We  don't  get  very  much  of  this  biz'ness  in  our 
profession,"  he  soliloquized,  "but  it's  humanizin', 
and  makes  a  man  remember  who  he  is." 

He  became  strangely  quiet,  and  his  hard,  steel-blue 
eyes  took  on  a  softer  look,  as  the  faint  odor  woke  a 
chord  of  his  memory.  What  was  it  about  the  scent 
of  those  orange-blossoms  that  took  him  back  in  the 
past  ?  He  saw  an  old  plantation-house,  and  its  out- 
lying fields  of  corn  and  cotton.  The  moon  rose  softly 
over  the  bayou,  tipping  the  low  porch  with  black  and 
silver.  Who  was  that  standing  in  the  shadow  there, 
the  vines  of  the  trellis  drifting  in  patches  over  her 
fair  young  face  ?  And  who  that  young  fellow,  small 
of  stature,  but  lithe  and  active,  slipping  upon  the  lit- 
tle hand  a  circlet  of  gold  beneath  the  pale  moon's 
glamour  ?  Ah,  yes  !  it  was  all  past  long  ago  !  There 
was  a  small  green  mound  out  by  the  lagoon,  which 
the  "  sentinel  cypress-tree  stands  over."  And  the 
willows  wailed  a  low  dirge  by  the  hurrying  stream. 
It  was  all  gone  long  ago  !  But  somehow  the  rough 
sheriff,  for  all  his  brusquencss,  found  the  sunlight  too 
strong  for  his  eyes  again,  even  upon  the  shady  veranda, 
and  shielded  them  against  it  with  his  heavy  hat-brim. 

A  step  on  the  porch  recalled  him.  It  was  Henry 
Bruce.  He  came  toward  him  with  an  outstretched 
hand  and  a  frank  greeting. 

"  Well,  well,  Sheriff  Mosely,  glad  to  see  you've  got 
over  our  way  at  last,"  he  said,  cordially,  with  a  hearty 
hand-shake.  "  Which  way  this  time  ?  " 

"  On  the  way  hum,  now,"  Mosely  rejoined,  return- 
ing the  grip  with  sinews  of  steel.  "  Badly  done  up, 
too,  and  gen'rally  knocked  out  by  the  experience  of 
the  last  three  weeks.  Me  and  my  two  depyties  hev 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  123 

been  down  on  the  stage-road,  layin'  fur  road-agints  day 
and  night.  We  had  a  brush  with  'em  night  afore  last, 
and  done  pretty  well,  but  Humly  Jim  got  a  bullet 
through  his  hand,  and  Jake  Sharp  lost  a  finger.  I 
ain't  been  in  a  bed  fur  a  dog's  age." 

"  Any  one  killed  ?  "  inquired  Bruce,  knowing  the 
sheriff's  delicate  habit  of  avoiding  the  fatal  details  in 
these  midnight  encounters. 

"  Lessee  ?  "  said  Mr.  Mosely,  putting  his  head  on 
one  side,  closing  his  eyes,  and  apparently  indulging 
in  a  sincere  effort  of  memory.  "  I  disremember  ex- 
actly whether  it  was  three  or  five  of  them  fellers  passed 
in  his  chips.  I  got  two,  I  know,  with  thet  new  self- 
cockin'  Colt's,  ole  man  Dallas  give  me.  Geewhittaker  ! 
but  thet  are  a  pretty  boy  to  shoot,  natchally ;  beats 
the  ole  fashion  of  film'  the  tumbler  all  to  death. 
Humly  Jim  called  one  chap  in  with  his  Winchester — 
the  best  line-runnin'  shot  I  ever  see  ;  by  good  luck  it 
was  the  one  who  winged  him.  And  Jake —  How 
many  did  you  git,  Jake?"  he  inquired,  as  the  two 
deputies  lounged  slowly  up  the  steps  of  the  porch,  and 
perched  on  the  low  railing. 

"None,"  said  Jake,  sullenly,  "not  a  mother's  son 
ez  I  knows  on  ;  my  hand  was  bleedin'  so  like  all  pos- 
sessed thet  I  hedn't  any  use  fur  a  six-shooter." 

He  exhibited  the  stump  of  his  finger,  bandaged  in 
a  bloody  rag.  It  was  now  apparent  that  Humly  Jim 
had  also  suffered  in  the  night  encounter.  His  left 
arm  was  worn  in  a  sling. 

"Ef  this  yer  foolishness  continners,"  remarked 
Mr.  Mosely  in  a  disgusted  tone,  surveying  his  wounded 
subordinates,  "  the  gals  in  this  country  will  hev  to  put 
on  their  spectacles  to  find  a  sound,  able-bodied  man 


124  A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

into  it.  They  ain't  a  fightin'-man  in  Oskaloo  thet's 
got  the  average  allowance  of  fingers  and  toes.  Some's 
without  ears,  and  they's  a  few" — chuckling  softly  to 
himself — "ez  is  losin'  their  hair,  but  the  majority  o' 
them  are  married." 

As  the  sheriff  concluded,  he  gravely  uncovered  his 
scanty  locks,  and  rubbed  his  bald  pate  with  his  red 
bandana. 

"N-n-nobody  can  a-allow  thet  a  gal  relieved  you 
o'  y-y-yourn,"  stammered  Humly  Jim,  with  a  spasm 
of  merriment  as  malevolent  as  the  laugh  of  a  hyena. 

"Not  much!"  said  the  sheriff,  shortly.  "They 
was  a  gal  once  who  was  a  little  soft  on  me,  and  she 
said  to  me,  *  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  hed  your  hair ! '  I 
hed  more  of  the  article  then  than  I  have  now,"  Mr. 
Mosely  remarked,  apologetically.  "She  said  tliet 
from  a  spirit  o'  gush,  I  reckon,  but  meanin'  it,  all  the 
same,  ye  know  ;  howsomever,  I  didn't  cotton.  I  sus- 
picioned  thet  gal  to  hev  designs  on  my  futur'  state, 
and  reckoned  I'd  give  her  a  hint  thet  I  was  onto  it. 
'Sal,'  sez  I,  'ye  kant  hev  my  scalp  nohow,  much  as 
ye  admire  it.'  She  never  hed  much  to  say  to  me  arter 
thet." 

"To  change  the  subject  somewhat,  gentlemen, 
from  the  fair  sex  to  more  vital  interests,"  put  in 
Henry  Bruce,  "I  fear  your  labors  are  not  yet  over. 
I  surprised  Lem  Wickson  and  his  gang,  this  morning, 
engaged  in  their  old  pastime  of  hog-hunting  on  my 
range.  The  hogs,  they  were  shooting,  belonged  to  Al- 
cides  Dallas,  and  had  his  'road-brand.'  They  were 
over  by  the  'Soldier's  Water-Hole,'  on  the  'Twin  Di- 
vides.'" 

"  Ye  don't  say  ! "  said  Mr.  Mosely,  rising  upon  his 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  125 

elbow  excitedly,  as  he  received  this  intelligence.  "Is 
it  possible  them  fellers  are  in  thet  biz'ness  yet  ?  They 
must  be  hankeriu'  fur  a  term  in  jail  at  the  '  Post,'  and 
Lem,  I  reckon,  is  lookin'  forward  to  bein'  the  princi- 
pal figure  in  one  o'  them  'necktie  matinees'  thet  I've 
presided  at  more  frequent  lately  than  I  hev  any  use 
fur.  Leastwise  thet's  wot  he'll  hev  to  attend  ef  he 
keeps  on  with  this  hoss-stealin.'" 

"I'm  too  tuckered  out  jest  now,"  continued  Ike, 
sinking  back  in  his  chair  with  an  air  of  fatigue,  "and 
my  possy  is  too  badly  used  up  to  push  things  right 
away.  I'll  hev  to  enter  a  '  nolly  prosequy'  fur  the 
present.  But,  howsomever,"  said  he,  rising  up  again 
excitedly,  and  laying  a  significant  hand  on  his  re- 
volver, "I'll  run  thet  Lem  Wickson  down  afore  I'm 
a  month  older,  or  my  name's  not  Mosely.  Thet  man 
is  gettin'  on  the  inside  track  of  my  moral  principles 
by  his  impudence,  and  thet's  suthin'  I  won't  allow 
no  one  to  do.  Besides,  I  owe  thet  much  to  'All- 
sides'  himself." 

Sheriff  Mosely's  righteous  outburst  of  indignation 
was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  footsteps  and  voices 
as  Mrs.  Kernochau  and  Miss  Stafford  came  out  upon 
the  veranda.  The  usual  courtesies  were  exchanged, 
the  bluff  sheriff  exhibiting  an  off-hand  gallantry  in 
meeting  the  ladies,  which  invariably  surprised  those 
who  knew  the  man  and  the  rough  duties  of  his  call- 
ing. Far  different  was  the  bearing  of  the  deputies, 
Jake  Sharp  and  Humly  Jim,  who  were  instantly  sur- 
prised into  that  uncouthness  which  overtakes  the  un- 
cultured male  animal  in  the  presence  of  beauty  and 
refinement.  They  descended  abruptly  from  their 
perches,  executed  the  customary  awkward  salutation, 


126  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  then,  climbing  back  upon  the  railing  from  sheer 
embarrassment,  were  overcome  by  a  painful  silence 
and  a  conviction  of  being  all  hands  and  feet. 

"You  were  speaking  of  Alcides  Dallas,  Mr.  Mose- 
ly,"  Mrs.  Kernochan  remarked,  sitting  down  in  one 
of  the  large,  old-fashioned  rockers.  "How  is  that 
queer  old  man  and  his  quaint  little  daughter  ?  Does 
he  entertain  visitors  as  much  as  ever  with  his  bewilder- 
ing music  upon  the  violin  ?" 

"  Having  just  returned  from  a  professional  visit 
down  in  the  lower  country,  I  can't  really  say  just  how 
they  are  gettin'  on  over  by  the  Colorado,"  replied  the 
sheriff,  with  a  humorous  twinkle  of  his  blue  eye,  that 
showed  he  appreciated  the  lady's  comment,  "but  I 
suppose  the  usual  overtures  to  '  Courtship '  and  '  Matri- 
mony '  are  still  in  order.  By-the-way,  are  you  ladies 
aware  that  there  is  to  be  a  ball  given  at  San  Marcus 
immediately  after  the  '  spring  round-ups '?  It  can't 
be  more  than  a  fortnight  away,  and  such  another  op- 
portunity for  a  stranger  in  the  Lone  Star  to  witness 
the  gayeties  of  the  season  is  not  often  afforded. — You 
must  ask  Mr.  Bruce  to  escort  you,"  turning  to  Miss 
Stafford. 

"A  ball!"  exclaimed  the  fair  Edith,  who  had 
been  leaning  against  a  pillar  of  the  veranda,  list- 
ening listlessly  to  the  previous  conversation,  "a 
genuine  frontier  merry-making,  such  as  I  have  heard 
so  much  about  ?  That  is  delightful !  I  must 
see  it  by  all  means! — You  will  take  me,  Hal,  of 
course  ?  " 

"I  suppose  so,"  replied  Bruce,  in  rather  a  hesitating 
tone,  on  being  thus  directly  appealed  to.  "I  hope 
you  won't  think  me  rude,  Edith,  but  the  fact  is  I 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  127 

have  already  part-way  committed  myself  in  regard  to 
that  affair." 

"And  to  whom,  pray?"  inquired  Edith,  raising 
her  pretty  brows  in  the  completeness  of  her  surprise. 
"What  siren  has  anticipated  me  in  this  request,  I 
should  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  a  little  favor  Miss  Dallas  requested  dur- 
ing my  visit  there,"  Bruce  responded,  carelessly 
enough.  "'I'm  sorry  these  engagements  conflict, 
however.  What  do  you  think  I'd  better  do  about 
it?" 

"Do  about  it?"  returned  Miss  Stafford,  with  a 
proud  toss  of  her  head.  "Why,  you'll  take  me,  of 
course.  You'll  write  Miss  Dallas  a  note — I'll  write 
it  for  you  if  it's  too  much  bother — in  which  you'll  say 
that  your  first  duty  is  with  your  guest,  and  that  she 
won't  release  you  under  any  circumstances.  /  won't ! 
I  think  that  disposes  of  the  matter  very  satisfactori- 
ly," she  concluded,  with  a  certain  triumphant  smile 
of  superiority,  which  would  have  charmed  the  absent 
Cynthia,  had  she  been  privileged  to  witness  it. 

"I'm.  afraid  Cynthia  will  regard  that  as  coming 
with  a  very  ill  grace  from  me,"  Bruce  rejoined,  as  if 
thinking  aloud.  "However,  there  is  considerable 
force  in  what  you  say. — By-the-way,  sheriff,"  he  said, 
suddenly,  as  Mr.  Mosely  rose  with  a  quick  glance  at 
the  sun,  as  if  about  to  take  his  departure,  "do  you 
happen  to  be  going  in  the  direction  of  the  '  Dallas 
Eanch'?" 

"Well,  I  do  happen  to  be  ridin'  that  way,"  Mose- 
ly replied. — "  I  was  about  to  say,  ladies,  that  I  regret 
professional  duties  will  prevent  my  offering  my  per- 
sonal services  in  the  present  emergency."  The  sheriff 


128  A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

belonged  to  that  recognized  class  of  individuals  whose 
vocabulary  improves  with  their  surroundings.  "  But 
that  being,  unfortunately,  out  of  the  question,  Mr. 
Bruce,  if  I  can  take  any  message  to  Miss  Cynthia,  or 
do  you  any  other  favor,  I'm  here  to  do  it !  " 

"No  message  is  necessary — thanks!"  Bruce  re- 
joined in  rather  an  emphatic  tone ;  "  and  I  feel  a 
natural  reluctance  about  making  the  request  I  do. 
The  fact  is,  I  think  a  guitar  would  be  such  an  im- 
provement upon  that  poor,  weather-beaten  banjo.  Miss 
Dallas  possesses,  that  I  should  like  to  send  her  my 
own.  I  think,  with  her  knowledge  of  the  banjo,  she 
will  readily  learn  to  play  upon  it.  But  it's  an  awk- 
ward thing  to  carry  in  the  saddle,  sheriff." 

"  Bless  your  soul,  man,  don't  let  that  worry  you  !" 
exclaimed  Mr.  Mosely ;  "  ef  there's  a  strap  or  band 
about  it,  I'll  pack  it  as  easily  as  if  it  were  a  grip-sack. 
Let's  have  it  at  once  !  " 

Thus  urged,  Bruce  stepped  quickly  into  the  house, 
returning  with  the  instrument  enveloped  in  a  green- 
baize  case. 

"  They'll  take  me  for  a  traveling  minstrel  show, 
this  time,  sure  enough,"  laughed  Ike,  passing  the  at- 
tached ribbon  deftly  over  his  shoulder. 

"Bather  a  dangerous  one  to  interfere  with, 
though,"  commented  Mrs.  Kernochan,  with  a  gesture 
indicative  of  his  revolvers,  contrasting  strangely  with 
the  suggestion  of  the  troubadour  at  his  back. 

"They  don't  tally  very  well  together,  thet's  a 
fact!"  said  Ike,  glancing  down,  "but  I'm  equally 
prepared  now,  you  see,  for  peace  or  war. — Well,  good- 
by,  ladies  ;  I  must  be  off.  It's  a  long  ride  yet  to  Os- 
kaloo. — Come,  boys  ! "  and,  baring  his  bald  brows  in 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  129 

a  sweeping  salutation,  the  sheriff  was  off  to  the  gate 
with  his  quick,  nervous  stride. 

Jake  Sharp  and  Humly  Jim  dropped  down  from 
the  railing  of  the  veranda,  like  a  pair  of  rusty-coated 
crows  which  had  been  spending  the  interval  in  quiet 
and  gloomy  communion  upon  some  convenient  fence. 
With  bows,  that  were  phenomenal  for  their  awkward 
originality,  they  slouched  away  after  their  chief. 

There  was  a  leisurely  adjusting  of  girth  and  stir- 
rup at  the  rancho-gate,  a  hurried  scramble  into  the 
saddle,  and  an  abrupt  departure.  "  Smithareens," 
developing  some  eccentricity — possibly  owing  to  the 
strange  burden  her  rider  bore — called  for  a  display 
of  horsemanship  on  the  part  of  the  sheriff,  which  was 
promptly  responded  to  with  whip  and  spur.  This 
incident  awoke  the  latent  humor  and  merriment  of 
the  two  deputies.  At  last,  with  loud  laughter,  a  clat- 
ter of  hoofs,  and  an  accompanying  cloud  of  dust,  the 
cavalcade  got  fairly  under  way.  In  a  few  moments 
their  mounted  figures  were  scarcely  discernible  amid 
the  lengthening  shadows  of  the  valley. 


IX. 


THE  gracious  spring-time  lingered  lovingly  in  the 
valley  of  the  Colorado.  Nowhere  had  its  advent  been 
more  welcome,  nowhere  more  apparent  its  transform- 
ing changes.  Amid  weeks  of  brilliant  sunlight,  and 
odorous  breezes,  and  the  tuneful  improvising  of  mat- 
ing mocking-birds,  the  glad  days  came  and  went. 
From  twilight  to  twilight  the  sun  smiled  benignly 
down  from  out  the  cloudless  blue,  and  the  earth, 
tropical  with  flowers  and  verdure,  accepted  gratefully 
his  benediction.  It  was  early  in  May.  The  year's 
resurrection  was  complete.  The  prairie-dogs  bestirred 
themselves  merrily  about  their  noisy  housekeeping, 
and  chid  the  jocund  season  with  their  shrill  clamor. 
And  even  the  dismal  violin-playing  of  the  elder  Dallas 
seemed  to  thrill  at  times  with  accents  of  joy. 

The  old  man  passed  much  of  his  time  now  in  the 
open  air,  attired  in  that  easy  neglige,  which  became 
absolutely  reckless  as  the  season  advanced.  Coats  and 
vests  were  cheerfully  discarded,  and  even  hats  and 
boots.  Neck-cloth  and  shirt-collar  would  have  been 
renounced  quite  as  willingly,  had  not  these  restraints 
of  civilization  always  been  abandoned  as  superflu- 
ous. The  elder  Dallas  was  apparently  affected  in 
warm  weather  by  an  impulse,  similar  to  that  which 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

prompts  the  serpent  to  cast  his  skin.  It  had  even 
been  remarked  by  the  editor  of  the  "  Oskaloo  Cri- 
terion " — a  local  satirist,  who  spent  a  week  in  recruit- 
ing from  his  journalistic  labors  at  the  "  Dallas  Ranch  " 
— that  he  "hadn't  any  use  for  a  weather-indicator 
when  '  All-sides '  was  in  his  neighborhood."  He  al- 
ways "  knew  what  kind  of  a  day  to  expect  from  the 
alarming  frankness  of  his  costume  at  breakfast." 
This  gentleman  undoubtedly  accepted  the  eccentricity 
of  the  old  man's  toilet  in  the  light  of  a  recording 
thermometer. 

But,  amid  all  the  vagaries  of  Alcides's  daily  dress, 
his  passion  for  his  gloomy  instrument  was  predomi- 
nant. It  was  the  inseparable  companion  of  his  walks 
and  strolls — the  sharer  of  his  inactivity  and  revery. 
He  would  sit  for  hours  beneath  some  dark  live-oak, 
smiting  the  discords  of  his  protesting  fiddle,  causing 
the  sedate  "Aulus"  to  lift  eye  and  voice  to  heaven  in 
piteous  protest,  and  paralyzing  the  listening  mocking- 
birds with  the  horror  of  his  improvising.  In  divine 
despair  they  appeared  to  accept  the  impossibility  of 
reproducing  his  achievements,  and  wondered  and  were 
still. 

It  was  in  his  wanderings  over  his  grassy  range, 
however,  that  his  musical  efforts  were  most  remarka- 
ble. While  inspecting  some  of  his  sleek-skinned  cat- 
tle, grazing  in  a  fertile  hollow,  the  impulse  to  perform 
would  come  upon  him,  and,  sitting  down  upon  a 
neighboring  marmot-burrow,  he  would  attempt  some 
discordant  inspiration,  at  which  the  prairie-dogs  stood 
aghast,  and  the  cattle  bellowed  their  indignation  ;  con- 
cluding which,  he  would  return  to  the  ranch  with  an 
air  of  satisfaction  worthy  of  a  better  cause.  The  crit- 


132  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

ical  observer  might  have  argued  from  this  musical 
formality,  a  possible  prelude  to  some  approaching  cere- 
mony incident  to  the  season  ;  but,  since  the  elder 
Dallas,  as  often  as  otherwise,  went  upon  these  pil- 
grimages barefooted,  it  is  possible  the  dismal  concert 
had  its  uses,  for  the  considerate  rattlesnakes  respected 
and  spared  this  eccentric  serpent-charmer. 

But  one  day,  as  if  in  answer  to  the  old  man's  in- 
vocation, the  "  Dallas  Range  "  awoke  to  life  and  ani- 
mation. Troops  of  cattle  thundered  through  the 
little  valley,  driven  on  by  bands  of  horsemen,  and 
converging  upon  a  large  pen  at  its  upper  end.  The 
air  was  full  of  the  cries  of  lowing  kine,  the  bleating 
of  calves,  and  the  shouts  of  pursuing  cow-boys.  The 
plain  was  picturesque  with  the  evolutions  of  the  out- 
riders, goading  the  terror-stricken  bands,  and  throw- 
ing the  unerring  lasso.  The  advance-guard  of  the 
"  spring  round-ups"  had  reached  the  dwelling  of  the 
elder  Dallas.  The  business  of  branding  calves  and 
" cutting  out"  the  various  owners'  property  had  be- 
gun. In  haste  the  aged  cattle-owner  discarded  his 
fiddle,  resumed  his  knee-boots,  and,  mounting  his 
sturdy  cow-pony,  joined  the  boisterous  cavalcade. 

But  the  days  passed  drearily  for  Cynthia.  She 
took  no  interest  in  the  varied  features  of  the  round- 
up. The  bursts  of  speed  between  the  rival  horsemen, 
the  exciting  chase  of  some  refractory  steer,  the  skill- 
ful cast  of  the  sinuous  lariat,  the  shock  and  triumph 
of  each  sharp  encounter — scenes  familiar  to  her,  in- 
deed, and  in  which  she  herself,  mounted  upon  her 
fleet  little  cow-pony,  had  often  formed  a  conspicuous 
figure,  compelling  the  admiration  of  these  centaurs 
of  the  rein — these  she  witnessed  with  a  listless  eye  or 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST.  133 

did  not  regard  at  all.  And,  if  the  exciting  chase  in- 
terested her  not,  certainly  still  less  the  more  prosaic 
details  of  throwing  and  branding  the  unfortunate 
calves,  the  cries  of  the  tortured  cattle,  and  the  enu- 
merating of  the  year's  increase. 

In  all  of  these  interesting  particulars  the  elder 
Dallas  manifested  a  keen  delight,  exhibiting  a  skill  in 
horsemanship  that  those  who  were  familiar  with  his 
usual  rheumatic  mode  of  progression  could  scarcely 
credit.  He  brought  home  with  him  to  dinner,  at  odd 
times,  certain  of  the  "likeliest"  of  his  companions — 
large-limbed,  deep-chested  sons  of  the  saddle — intro- 
ducing them  to  his  charming  daughter  with  a  paternal 
nourish  and  hopeful  manner  that  gave  place  to  a 
mystified  wonder,  when  he  noted  the  apathy  of  Cyn- 
thia's greeting.  He  had  anticipated  no  small  degree 
of  gratitude  for  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  of  dis- 
playing her  fascinations,  and  had  congratulated  him- 
self in  advance  upon  the  havoc  she  would  accomplish 
in  a  community  where  the  very  scarcity  of  the  fair  sex 
makes  their  advances  irresistible. 

But  all  these  air-castles  of  the  elder  Dallas  were 
doomed  to  speedy  overthrow.  To  one  and  all  Cynthia 
preserved  a  consistent  attitude  of  calm  indifference. 
The  meal  progressed  in  grave  silence  ;  the  infrequent 
conversation  had  no  lighter  topic  than  the  incidents  of 
the  round-up ;  and  when,  at  its  close,  the  admiring 
Alcides  suggested — 

"Ye  might  bring  out  yer  banjo  and  shake  it  up 
for  the  boys  a  little  ;  show  'em  jes'  natch'ally  what  a 
stunner  ye  are  at  pickin'  it" — this  accomplished  per- 
former replied  with  an  excuse,  or  instantly  escaped  to 
the  seclusion  of  her  own  little  room.  Whereupon  the 


134:  A   NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

embarrassed  cow-men  were  compelled  to  endure  an 
onslaught  upon  the  violin  that  should  have  caused 
the  embowering  live-oaks  to  rise  and  mutiny. 

But  Cynthia  went  her  way,  and  followed  the  dic- 
tates of  her  singular  humor.  "  Aulus  "  and  the  fawn 
usually  accompanied  her  in  these  lonely  wanderings. 
Sometimes  her  listless  footsteps  sought  the  piny 
shelter  of  her  bower,  where,  swinging  in  her  little 
hammock,  she  passed  long  hours,  steeped  in  the  aro- 
matic odors  of  the  woods,  watching  the  soft  play  of 
sunlight  in  the  boughs  above,  her  fancy  captive  and 
her  thoughts  adream.  What  secret  she  whispered  in 
the  ear  of  the  sagacious  hound  that  lay  at  her  feet, 
meanwhile,  his  devoted  eyes  fixed  ever  upon  her  face ; 
what  thoughts  of  hers  may  have  been  detected  by  the 
antelope  that  drowsed  away  the  long  hours  thus  con- 
secrated to  her  woodland  reveries,  have  never  been 
divulged  by  these  most  worthy  confidantes.  And  if 
the  grave  pines,  that  bent  so  reverently  about  their 
little  devotee,  divined  aught  of  her  disquietude,  they 
only  grew  the  graver  for  the  knowledge,  and  dropped 
a  cone  now  and  then  in  their  still  depths — a  wood- 
land tear  of  sympathy.  And  at  such  moments  the 
river  far  below  lifted  a  soft  consolatory  murmur  that 
stole  soothingly  upon  her  silent  musing. 

For,  I  fear,  our  little  Cynthia  was  but  learning  the 
story  which,  if  we  are  to  believe  the  poets,  the  vast 
panorama  of  Nature  has  been  telling  "since  first  the 
flight  of  years  began."  A  sudden  loneliness  had  come 
upon  her  in  the  midst  of  her  pastimes  and  occupa- 
tions. A  strange  voice  whispered  in  her  heart.  The 
things  which  satisfied  once  had  lost  their  charm  some- 
how ;  the  tones  of  her  banjo  were  harsh  and  discord- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  135 

ant ;  the  fawn  had  less  of  grace ;  even  her  beloved 
"Aulus"  was  often  stupid  and  unsatisfying. 

At  times  the  preoccupied  Miss  Dallas  turned  her 
footsteps  in  quite  another  direction.  She  developed 
a  fascination  for  a  certain  ledge  of  rocks  upon  the 
crest  of  a  western  divide.  It  was  a  bare,  uninterest- 
ing spot,  without  shade  or  shelter,  and,  but  for  the 
prospect  it  afforded  of  the  valley  on  either  side,  a  poor 
place  certainly  to  pass  one's  time.  Yet  Cynthia  was 
much  given  to  haunting  this  locality.  A  superficial 
observer  might  have  surmised  that  she  sought  this 
lofty  post  of  observation,  the  more  closely  to  note  the 
varied  manoauvres  of  the  round-up  in  the  plain  below ; 
but,  unfortunately  for  this  theory,  the  back  of  the  fair 
observer  was  invariably  turned  upon  this  animated 
spectacle.  Who  shall  say  what  disappointments  were 
hers,  thus  occupied  in  spying  out  the  land  !  Who 
shall  say  how  many  times  this  self-appointed  Sister 
Anne  beheld  the  cloud  of  dust  upon  the  distant  hori- 
zon disclose,  not  the  expected  horsemen,  but  the  in- 
variable flock  of  sheep  !  Or,  how  many  times  some 
roving  mustang  raised  a  tumultuous  flutter  in  that 
little  breast,  that  not  a  whole  caballada  of  his  wild- 
eyed  comrades  could  have  caused  by  the  maddest  of 
their  onsets  !  Yet  even  in  this  hopeless  reconnoitring 
the  days  sped  on  and  on,  and  the  anticipated  horse- 
man never  came. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention  a  certain  formality  in 
dress  which  Miss  Dallas  began  to  affect  about  this 
time.  It  was  in  the  direction  of  long  trains  and  trail- 
ing habits.  There  was  much  mysterious  rehearsal  in 
the  seclusion  of  her  little  room,  a  disposition  to  gather 
her  skirts  in  one  gloved  hand  and  tiptoe  about,  avoid-. 


136  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

ing  intermediate  objects  with  an  acquired  daintiness 
and  grace.  There  were  certain  fastidious  airs  of 
manner  which  were  deftly  caught  and  quite  as  faith- 
fully rehearsed  in  private.  During  these  ceremonies 
a  small  riding-whip,  formerly  presented  to  Cynthia 
by  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold,  was  generally  carried  lightly  in 
the  right  hand.  A  swift  canter  over  the  adjacent 
hills,  attended  by  the  same  scrutiny  of  the  remote 
horizon,  invariably  followed  this  painstaking  perform- 
ance. 

Such  mysterious  behavior  was  not  without  provok- 
ing the  comment  of  other  members  of  the  household. 

"  I  should  reckon  yo'  was  practicin'  fo'  the  tight- 
rope, wi'  all  yo'  airs  and  graces,  Mis'  Cynthy,"  the 
ebony  Amelia  remonstrated. 

"  Is  there  any  private  theatricals  goin'  to  come  off 
down  at  San  Marcus  ? "  inquired  the  mystified  Al- 
cides,  having  through  the  open  door  caught  a  glimpse 
of  his  daughter  attitudinizing.  "I  didn't  know, 
from  thet  thar  high-steppin',  but  you  war  posin'  fur 
the  stony-hearted  princess  thet  refuses  the  poor  but 
deservin'  young  man  in  the  play." 

To  all  this  ingenious  badinage  Miss  Dallas  pre- 
served an  attitude  of  disdainful  reticence.  But  she 
was  manifestly  unhappy  and  ill  at  ease.  That  joyous, 
light-hearted  gayety  which  once  possessed  her  had 
taken  wings.  She  sang  no  more,  where  once  her  glad 
voice  challenged  the  mocking-bird.  She  was  as  ca- 
pricious as  an  April  day.  Peevish  and  fretful  with 
her  father  for  the  most  part,  there  were  intervals  of 
sudden  tenderness,  when  she  overwhelmed  him  with 
kisses  and  caresses.  Possibly,  at  such  moments,  a 
certain  absent  individual  was  ever  present  to  her  fancy, 


A  NYMPH   OF   THE   WEST.  13 f 

whose  name  she  never  suffered  to  pass  her  lips.  Phi- 
losophers aver  that,  in  matters  of  the  heart,  there  is 
a  species  of  cold  comfort  in  thus  lavishing  the  affec- 
tions by  proxy. 

During  this  unsatisfactory  period  Cynthia's  treat- 
ment of  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold  was  most  remarkable.  This 
gentleman  had  been  wont  to  visit  her  often,  to  pass 
hours  in  her  society,  to  sit  quietly  by  her  side,  silent 
and  thoughtful,  smoking  his  pipe,  and  noting  her 
every  word  or  action  with  a  reverence  and  admiration 
that  was  little  short  of  worship.  Formerly  Miss  Dal- 
las had  permitted  this  oppressive  homage  as  if  hers 
by  a  species  of  divine  right ;  had  laughed  and  chatted 
with  him  pleasantly,  accepted  his  little  gifts  and  keep- 
sakes gratefully,  sent  him  upon  her  errands  with  the 
air  of  conferring  a  favor,  and  exerted  her  many  fas- 
cinations in  a  way  known  only  to  the  sex. 

All  this  had  been  most  agreeable  to  Jerrold.  With 
evident  satisfaction  he  basked  in  the  sunshine  of  her 
favor.  But  a  change  came  suddenly  about.  With 
the  advent  of  the  spring  round-ups  came  more  fre- 
quent visits  on  the  part  of  that  gentleman,  and  a 
strange  waywardness  in  Cynthia's  reception.  She 
greeted  him  with  marked  embarrassment  and  restraint. 
The  former  silence  of  his  manner  was  now  eclipsed 
by  her  own  taciturnity.  Jerrold  was  often  astound- 
ed at  his  eloquence  in  his  efforts  to  entertain 
her,  but  Cynthia  was  at  all  times  absent  and  dis- 
traught, and  appeared  to  be  haunted  by  a  nervous 
dread  that  Mr.  Jerrold  was  about  to  say  something 
which  it  would  give  her  great  pain  to  hear.  Upon 
the  slightest  pretext  she  would  escape  him,  and  bury 
herself  amid  the  solitudes  of  the  sympathetic  pines. 


138  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

Here  that  strange  trouble  which  made  her  heart  ache 
would  occasionally  overflow  her  eyes,  and  there  were 
tears  shed  in  the  dim  woods  as  little  bidden  as  under- 
stood— tears  which  the  pines  bemoaned  and  the  blue- 
birds and  squirrels  held  sacred,  but  which  somehow 
brought  the  balm  of  relief  to  her  who  shed  them. 

I  do  not  think,  through  it  all,  that  Miss  Dallas 
was  really  conscious  of  being  in  love  ;  only  in  a  gen- 
eral way  that  she  was  bereaved  and  disappointed.  The 
occurrences  of  the  past  few  months  had  come  to  her 
in  the  light  of  a  revelation.  She  was  suddenly  aware 
of  the  existence  of  some  one  who  possessed  for  her  a 
peculiar  sympathy,  whose  words  awoke  a  responsive 
echo  in  her  heart — some  one  immeasurably  superior 
to  the  rough  men  she  usually  encountered.  She  could 
not  explain  the  strange  claim  this  hitherto  unrealized 
nature  had  upon  her  ;  she  only  knew  that  it  existed  ; 
that  she  longed  for  its  influence ;  that  she  grieved 
when  it  was  denied.  And  there  was  associated  with 
this  feeling,  as  there  always  is,  one  of  pique  and  in- 
jury for  the  apparent  neglect  which  she  had  suffered. 

How  much  this  state  of  mind  was  alleviated  when 
the  obliging  sheriff  put  into  her  hands  the  guitar  sent 
by  Henry  Bruce  it  is  impossible  to  say.  Certain  it  is 
that  never  instrument  was  the  recipient  of  more  ten- 
der treatment.  She  adorned  it  with  ribbons,  carried 
it  about  with  her  constantly,  and  practiced  assiduously 
upon  it.  About  this  time  the  elder  Dallas,  recogniz- 
ing a  formidable  rival,  abandoned  his  own  exertions 
upon  the  violin.  He  viewed  the  advent  of  the  guitar 
with  suspicion,  and  commented  upon  it  with  cyni- 
cism. Apparently  he  recognized,  in  the  soft  harmonies 
Cynthia's  deft  fingers  struck  from  the  strings,  a  dan- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  139 

gerous  ally  to  sentiment.  Alcides,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  a  foe  to  romance. 

"  Ye  wanter  look  out,  Cynthy,  fur  the  poetry  and 
nonsense  thet  thar  tarnal  thing  '11  fill  you  chuck  full 
of,  ef  ye  once  turn  it  loose  on  yer  onguarded  feclin's," 
he  said,  gravely,  surprising  her  once  playing  upon  it 
with  eyes  that  were  wistful  and  far  away.  "It's  a 
destroyer  of  the  appetite,  and  gener'ly  plumb  full 
o'  onsatisfactoriness,"  bestowing  a  glance  upon  the 
glistening  strings  that  was  full  of  foreboding.  "I 
knew  a  girl  once  thet  was  thet  led  away  by  one 
of  them  jinglin'  critters  thet  she  didn't  do  nothin' 
else  but  play  an'  lie  'round,  a-longin'  and  a-yearnin', 
until  by-and-by  the  sallow-faced  critter  got  herself 
clean  bewitched.  Her  family  and  friends  could  do 
nothin'  with  her  ;  she  wouldn't  eat  nothin' ;  and  fiii'ly 
she  went  into  a  gallopin'  consumption,  and  they  buried 
her  one  very  damp  day  in  the  arly  spring." 

But,  in  spite  of  this  terrible  example  of  the  fas- 
cination of  guitar-playing,  Cynthia  still  persisted  in 
her  practicing.  She  endured  with  cheerfulness  the 
sore  fingers,  tired  wrists,  and  other  annoyances  which 
this  exacting  instrument  imposes  upon  its  devotees. 
And  she  received  no  end  of  encouragement  in  other 
ways.  The  mocking-birds  which  fled  aghast  from  the 
shrieking  violin  sometimes  favored  her  with  imitative 
outbursts — that  sincerest  form  of  flattery.  Perched 
on  some  tossing  spray,  or  flickering  here  and  there  in 
their  odd  "half-mourning,"  they  reproduced  snatches 
of  her  waltzes  and  fandangos.  There  was  a  certain 
sentimental  lizard  with  a  speculative  eye  that  would 
bask  daily  upon  a  sunny  rock,  and  from  his  rapt  de- 
meanor during  her  performance,  was  apparently  en- 


140  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

abled  to  obtain  glimpses  of  the  infinite,  hitherto 
denied.  And  "  Aulus  "  sympathized,  and  without  re- 
monstrance lent  his  quiet  and  dignified  approval. 
And  the  fawn  was  soothed  into  that  dreamy  languor 
that  was  fast  becoming  habitual. 

So  the  days  passed ;  and  Cynthia's  heart  found 
much  of  consolation,  and  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold  wondered 
at  the  change  in  his  dulcinea,  and  had  long  confer- 
ences with  the  mystified  Alcides,  who  was  annoyed 
and  fretful,  and  made  mysterious  reference  to  the 
prevalence  of  malaria  and  the  existence  of  "dumb 
ager " — the  inference  being  that  his  lovely  daughter 
was  suffering  from  the  maladies  of  a  forward  spring. 
Until  one  day  Mr.  Jerrold  surprised  the  old  man  with 
this  query  : 

"  Ye  don't  reckon,  then,  thet  the  visit  of  thet  thar 
Henry  Bruce  hez  hed  anythin'  to  do  with  this  yer 
change  ?  It's  my  opinion  thet's  what's  done  it." 

"  Why,  he  wa'  n't  here  more'n  two  days  at  the 
furthest,"  remonstrated  the  father,  staring  at  his  ques- 
tioner. 

"  Thet's  all  right,"  returned  Jerrold,  meditatively, 
"but  it  don't  take  any  great  length  of  time  with  the 
proper  person.  I've  been  told  thar's  been  cases  where 
it  was  only  a  word  or  a  look  thet  done  the  biz'ness. 
Purvided  thet's  the  true  state  of  the  case,"  he  added, 
stretching  his  huge  limbs  awkwardly,  while  a  weary 
look  crept  suddenly  into  his  eyes — "purvided  thet's 
it,  and  he  proves  himself  to  be  a  better  man  nur  I 
am,  Cynthy  must  take  her  ch'ice.  I  hevn't  got  noth- 
in'  ag'in  him  ;  he's  a  square  sort  of  chap,  and  a  man, 
ez  is  a  man,  can  stand  bein'  beat  by  a  straightforrard 
feller  who  is  better  fixed  and  better  favored." 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

Then  came  a  letter  from  Henry  Bruce  to  Cynthia, 
couched  in  delicate  terms,  wherein  he  expressed  regret 
that  he  was  unable  to  act  as  her  escort  to  the  coming 
ball  at  San  Marcus,  but  that  courtesy  necessitated 
that  he  should  accompany  Miss  Stafford.  Cynthia 
perused  this  missive  calmly,  wept  over  it  in  private, 
and  then  acted  with  the  perverseness  of  womankind. 
She  did  not  change  her  attitude  toward  the  deserving 
Mr.  Jerrold,  but  she  sat  down  and  indited  a  long  epis- 
tle to  the  neglectful  and  dangerous  Captain  Foraker, 
in  which  she  reproached  that  gentleman  for  his  long 
absence  from  her  side,  represented  herself  as  languish- 
ing from  lack  of  his  attentions,  and  inquired  if  he 
could  spare  time  from  his  engrossing  military  duties 
to  take  her  to  the  coming  festivity.  And  Captain 
Foraker,  vain,  critical,  and  complacent,  read  this  let- 
ter carefully  over  his  after-dinner  cigar,  smiled  super- 
ciliously, adjusted  his  officer's  cap  rakishly  over  his 
distracting  curls,  and,  mounting  his  horse,  rode  over 
from  the  Post,  and  passed  the  afternoon  with  Cynthia. 

That  he  was  received  with  a  cordiality  he  had  no 
reason  nor  right  to  expect ;  that  Cynthia  flirted  with 
him  desperately,  and  in  a  manner  calculated  to  strike 
despair  into  the  heart  of  Buck  Jerrold  ;  and  that  the 
irate  Alcides  was  moved  several  times,  in  the  course 
of  that  eventful  afternoon,  to  cast  longing  glances  in 
the  direction  of  the  "  Silent  Mary,"  may  be  readily 
imagined  by  the  reader  who  has  remarked  the  incon- 
sistency of  woman  when  dominated  by  pique. 

Small  wonder  that  Captain  Foraker  promised  to 
go  to  the  ball ;  that  he  listened  cheerfully  to  Cynthia's 
plan  to  visit  Miss  Bertha  Maverick,  the  fascinating 
daughter  of  the  village  blacksmith,  and  agreed  to  call 


142  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

for  her  at  that  lady's  home  on  the  evening  in  ques- 
tion ;  and  that  he  rode  back  to  his  quarters  with  a 
self-satisfied  smile  upon  his  supercilious  features,  curl- 
ing his  gray  mustache,  and  otherwise  pluming  him- 
self upon  the  triumphs  of  the  afternoon.  That,  after 
his  departure,  Cynthia  dismissed  him  utterly  from 
her  mind ;  that,  beyond  the  satisfaction  of  having 
averted  the  awful  possibility  of  being  a  "  wall-flower" 
at  the  San  Marcus  ball,  she  experienced  nothing  but 
regret ;  that  she  realized  herself  the  vanity  and  un- 
profitableness of  all  earthly  things,  while  she  suc- 
ceeded in  filling  the  minds  of  Jerrold  and  Dallas  with 
solicitude  ;  and  that  she  hated  Miss  Stafford  cordially, 
and  was  conscious,  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  that  Henry 
Bruce  was  more  fascinating  than  ever — are  facts  that 
will  readily  occur  to  her  appreciative  and  discriminat- 
ing sex,  to  whose  tender  sympathies  her  present  emo- 
tions are  intrusted. 


X. 

FOE  weeks  it  had  been  apparent  at  San  Marcus 
that  a  social  event  of  unusual  importance  was  impend- 
ing. For  weeks  a  flutter  of  expectancy  had  disquieted 
the  feminine  heart,  displaying  itself  in  animated  gos- 
sip upon  the  street  corners,  in  an  alarming  tendency 
to  indulge  in  afternoon  calls,  and  a  reckless  patronage 
of  seamstress  and  milliner.  The  affable  clerks  at 
Murray's  store  had  the  tedious  hours  of  business  en- 
livened by  coy  visits  from  local  belles,  nervously  fussy 
about  the  fit  of  high-heeled  kid  boots,  and  painfully 
fastidious  in  regard  to  the  cut  of  a  glove  or  the  tint 
of  a  ribbon.  They  beset  the  shop-counters  in  trios 
and  pairs,  and  quite  demoralized  the  perspiring  store- 
keeper. There  was  much  promenading  in  the  single 
business  street  of  the  little  village,  indulged  in  so  aim- 
lessly as  to  give  the  observer  the  general  impression 
of  a  rehearsal.  But-  it  was  apparent  that  feminine 
curiosity  culminated  at  the  river,  whither,  over  the 
level  plain,  the  main  thoroughfare  of  San  Marcus  led, 
and  to  which  locality  the  footsteps  of  the  fair  daugh- 
ters were  most  persistently  directed. 

Foremost  among  these  lovely  pedestrians  was  Miss 
Bertha  Maverick,  with  an  eye  like  the  flash  of  a  bayo- 
net, and  a  profile  decidedly  aquiline.  She  could  be 
seen  on  any  pleasant  afternoon,  defying  the  admira- 


144  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

tion  of  the  baffled  sun  with  a  parasol  of  pale  pink,  and 
leading  on,  as  it  were,  by  this  orifiamme  of  sentiment, 
the  thronging  cohorts  of  Texan  coquetry.  Three 
days  of  aimless  pilgrimaging  on  the  part  of  the  San 
Marcus  maidens,  and  all  at  once  was  seen  the  method 
of  this  vernal  madness.  Occasional  horsemen  began 
to  be  met  with  on  the  dusty  highway.  By  degrees 
the  number  of  these  was  augmented  to  mounted 
squads  and  groups,  until  at  last  their  proportions 
reached  those  of  an  occasional  cavalcade.  Of  course, 
this  irruption  of  eligible  manhood  was  the  occasion 
of  much  indiscriminate  flirtation,  and  there  were 
many  glances  given  and  exchanged  that  boded  ill  for 
the  future  peace  of  mind  of  the  parties  concerned. 
Mischievous  eyes  challenged  observation  beneath 
dainty  bonnets,  and  the  tilted  sun-shade  was  eloquent 
of  the  warfare  of  Cupid.  Need  it  be  said  that  bronzed 
and  bearded  faces  accepted  these  overtures  with  more 
than  equal  frankness,  that  the  fluttering  handkerchief 
in  every  instance  received  the  recognition  of  the  raised 
sombrero,  and  that  everywhere  along  this  dangerously 
active  highway  there  was  a  disposition  on  the  part  of 
either  sex  to  halt  frequently  and  look  back  ? 

But,  once  in  town,  these  amorous  advances  of  the 
sterner  sex  gave  rise  to  reckless  outlay  of  capital  and 
a  remarkable  solicitude  in  matters  of  dress.  The  bar- 
ber was  put  into  requisition,  and  the  demand  for 
"b'iled  shirts"  and  "  store  -  clothes  "  threatened  to 
exceed  the  limited  supply  of  those  articles.  Although 
the  proprietor  of  the  Half-way  House  had  made  un- 
usual preparation  for  this  influx  of  custom,  and  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  prepare  the  unfurnished  bed- 
rooms upon  the  upper  corridor  for  occupancy,  it  was 


A  NYMFH  OF  THE  WEST.  145 

soon  found  necessary  on  the  part  of  guests  to  "  double 
up,"  and,  in  many  instances,  the  floor  and  even  the 
roof  were  utilized,  on  account  of  the  extensive  oppor- 
tunities they  afforded  for  sleeping  purposes.  It  was 
whispered  that  the  two  Ludeling  brothers — great  gal- 
lants of  the  Southwest — despairing  of  accommodation 
at  the  village  hostelry,  had  been  obliged  to  pass  the 
night  in  the  rear  of  the  saloon,  camping  out  with 
blanket  and  saddle  in  true  frontier  fashion.  That 
the  hard  counters  of  Murray's  store  afforded  restless 
slumbers  to  a  portion  of  this  excessive  population  was 
a  matter  of  common  report.  The  outcome  of  all  this 
was  to  strengthen  the  popular  impression  that  the 
"Half-way  House"  had  been  well  christened. 

Perhaps  it  was  for  these  reasons  that  the  visitors 
devoted  little  of  their  time  to  slumber.  Business  was 
brisk  in  the  gambling-saloons  and  bar-rooms.  The 
pop  of  the  lager-beer  cork  responded  to  the  click  of 
the  billiard-ball,  and  there  was  a  large  gathering  of 
men  about  the  "monte-game"  of  a  local  blackleg, 
and  the  usual  instructive  interchange  of  cash  and  ex- 
perience. 

Meanwhile,  notes  in  very  erratic  handwriting  were 
constantly  flying  about.  Mr.  Lariat,  in  conformance 
with  a  custom  as  absurd  as  unnecessary,  was  giving 
Miss  Lone  Star  preliminary  notice  that  he  contem- 
plated the  pleasure  of  calling  upon  her  ;  and  the  latter 
lady  was  responding  that  she  would  take  pleasure  in 
being  at  home  in  anticipation  of  that  gratifying  event. 
And  so  feminine  vanity  was  flattered  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  manly  breast  disquieted  for  some  days  to 
come  on  the  other,  by  these  rare  opportunities  for 
visiting  ;  the  dearth  of  womanhood  upon  the  frontier 
10 


14:6  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

rendering  young  manhood  practically  defenseless. 
And,  to  facilitate  this  dangerous  state  of  things,  the 
event  of  the  ball  approached,  at  which  music  and  the 
dance — those  destroyers  of  philosophy — were  to  finish 
matters  and  put  the  coup  de  grdce  to  the  general  in- 
fatuation. 

Through  the  foresight  of  Bruce  and  Kernochan, 
the  best  room  in  the  "Half-way  House"  had  been 
engaged  in  advance  for  Kate  and  Edith.  For  them- 
selves the  gentlemen  accepted  with  good  humor  such 
primitive  quarters  as  opportunity  afforded.  On  the 
morning  of  the  eventful  day,  they  drove  down  to  San 
Marcus  in  a  light  conveyance,  reaching  the  little 
hostelry  in  time  for  dinner.  Here  they  registered  in 
the  small  blank-book  which  answered  for  the  usual 
hotel  register,  and  Miss  Stafford  noted,  with  some 
merriment,  that  an  entry  made  by  Phil  Kernochan  on 
Christmas-day,  two  years  previous,  occurred  only 
four  pages  back.  Here  that  lady's  patrician  nostrils 
were  saluted  with  the  odor  of  kerosene  and  frontier 
cookery,  and,  after  enduring  the  stuffy  atmosphere 
and  rheumatic  appointments  of  her  bedroom,  she 
came  down  to  dinner  with  an  amusement  very  similar 
to  that  with  which  luxurious  people  enter  upon  the 
enjoyment  of  a  picnic. 

Doubtless  by  the  time  she  had  discussed  this  re- 
markable meal,  eaten  amid  promiscuous  society,  and 
overseered  by  the  officious  proprietor — who  kept  up  a 
running  fire  of  conversation  with  the  myrmidons  of 
the  kitchen  through  a  long  slit  in  the  wainscot,  and 
dealt  his  plates  and  appetizing  dishes  over  the  heads 
of  his  guests  with  great  recklessness  and  liberality — 
the  novelty  of  Texan  hotel-life  began  to  pall  somewhat 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  147 

upon  the  young  lady.  I  can  not  say  that  Edith's  ap- 
petite was  improved,  either  by  the  panoramic  view  of 
hotel  cookery  the  wainscot  afforded,  or  by  the  gen- 
tleman opposite,  who  ate  molasses  on  his  pie,  and  sup- 
plied a  very  wide  mouth  with  a  very  large  knife,  and 
a  general  suggestion  that  the  unnatural  size  of  the 
aperture  was  due  to  the  hazard  attending  this  experi- 
ment. Howbeit,  the  meal  was  endured,  and  perhaps 
in  dread  of  dyspeptic  retribution,  Miss  Stafford  pro- 
posed to  Henry  Bruce  to  take  her  for  a  short  stroll 
through  the  town.  To  this  the  gentleman  readily 
assented,  and  passing  the  long  line  of  vicious  and 
kicking  saddle-horses,  tethered  in  front  of  the  hotel, 
they  joined  the  animated  procession  of  strollers  that 
idled  through  the  main  street  of  San  Marcus. 

I  leave  to  the  imagination  how  much  attention 
the  fair  Northerner  attracted,  what  admiring  glances 
from  under  broad  sombreros  were  cast  after  her  erect 
figure  and  graceful  carriage,  and  with  what  envious 
whispers  of  detraction  the  belles  of  the  village  re- 
marked the  faultnessness  of  her  fashionable  walking- 
dress.  But  I  must  mention  one  incident  of  this  after- 
noon walk.  They  had  reached  a  point  about  half-way 
between  the  hotel  and  the  river,  when  a  familiar  voice 
caused  Bruce  to  raise  his  eyes.  Cynthia  stood  before 
him,  looking  very  pretty  and  engaging  from  the  be- 
coming depths  of  a  quaint  poke-bonnet.  She  was 
accompanied  by  an  elderly  man  in  the  dress  of  an 
officer.  He  was  nonchalantly  puffing  a  cigar.  Miss 
Bertha  Maverick,  escorted  by  a  cow-man  of  athletic 
build  and  awkward  gait,  was  just  behind  her. 

A  quick  color  mounted  to  Cynthia's  cheek,  and 
she  bowed  hurriedly  to  Bruce,  as  she  raised  her  eyes 


14-8  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

with  a  smile  of  coquetry  to  the  man  at  her  side.  A 
rapid  interchange  of  hostilities"  passed  between  the 
ladies  in  a  discriminating  survey  of  one  another's  cos- 
tumes, which  was  more  expressive  than  words.  Miss 
Bertha  Maverick,  with  supercilious  eyelids  and  defi- 
ant nostrils,  re-enforced  her  less  aggressive  companion. 
Bruce,  who  was  about  to  speak,  noting  at  once  the 
armed  neutrality  of  all  parties,  raised  his  hat  and 
passed  on.  But,  as  he  did  so,  he  heard  Miss  Bertha 
Maverick  remark  in  a  high,  metallic  voice  : 

"  Thet's  the  stuck-up  piece  you  was  tellin'  me 
about — eh,  Cynthia  ?  "Well,  ef  I  reckoned  I  was  so 
powerful  fascinatin',  I  wouldn't  let  every  one  know 
it  whenever  I  met  'em.  The  airs  and  graces  of  thet 
fast-colored  brunette  is  enough  to  natch/ally  paralyze 
an  eight-day  kitchen-clock." 

The  dull  red  globe  of  the  setting  sun  went  down 
that  afternoon  in  mortification,  blushing  itself  to 
death  before  the  silver  glories  of  the  splendid  moon 
that  rose  full-orbed  and  queenly  over  the  San  Marcus 
hills.  A  crimson  glow  lingered  along  the  horizon 
where  the  shame  of  day's  discomfiture  was  shared  by 
a  few  sympathetic  clouds.  An  occasional  planet, 
serene  and  pulseless,  hung  poised  in  the  limitless  ether 
and  graced  the  triumphant  destinies  of  night ;  but 
the  thousand  lesser  stars  were  lost  in  the  rare  efful- 
gence of  the  dominant  moon. 

With  the  first  shadows  of  evening,  public  curi- 
osity began  to  be  attracted  in  the  direction  of  a 
long,  low  structure,  whose  spacious  outlines  and 
shutterless  windows  showed  black  against  the  lighter 
sky. 

This  building  had  been  reared  in  the  interests  of 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  149 

Erin  by  a  prosperous  Hibernian,  who  rejoiced  in  the 
classic  name  of  Ulysses  Magindy,  and  consecrated  his 
architectural  efforts  and  poetic  memories  under  the 
title  of  "  Tara's  Hall."  But  the  cynical  Texan  youth 
were  wanting  in  reverence  for  Ireland's  legendary 
past.  "Tarrier's  Hall "  was  the  popular  rendering  of 
Mr.  Magindy's  poetic  christening.  Actuated  by  the 
same  spirit  of  skepticism,  they  pelted  the  edifice  with 
mud  and  stones,  and  sent  vagrant  tomato-cans  on 
voyages  of  discovery  through  its  ancient  lights.  Ex- 
ternally, it  was  a  pathetic  diagram  of  its  owner's  highly 
lacerated  feelings. 

But  there  were  occasions  when  the  importance  of 
"Tamer's  Hall "  impressed  itself  even  upon  this  deri- 
sive public.  During  political  meetings,  religious  re- 
vivals, and  temperance  crusades,  the  hand  of  the  van- 
dal was  stayed.  Among  such  intervals  of  immunity 
was  the  present.  The  very  rabble  that  had  been  most 
active  in  bombardment  now  bestowed  themselves  in 
attempted  renovation  and  repair.  The  spacious  audi- 
torium was  swept  and  aired ;  the  relics  of  barbarism 
were  removed ;  the  draughts  from  the  windows  ef- 
fectually sealed  by  the  intervention  of  card-board,  bits 
of  carpet,  and  cast-off  hats ;  and  even  the  redeeming 
touches  of  putty  and  varnish  were  here  and  there  at- 
tempted. 

And  when  feminine  taste  was  added  to  the  rude 
but  practical  efforts  of  men,  it  was  wonderful  to  note 
the  transforming  change  ;  to  see  how  the  ravages  of 
time  and  abuse  yielded  to  a  little  well-bestowed  deco- 
ration. On  this  occasion  the  San  Marcus  maidens 
had  employed  the  garniture  of  hemlock-boughs  and 
gayly  colored  muslin  with  telling  effect,  and  the  tal- 


150  A  NYirrn  OF  THE  WEST. 

low-candles  perched  everywhere  seemed  to  threaten  a 
general  conflagration. 

Mr.  Ulysses  Magindy,  himself,  was  at  present  going 
about  the  building  and  lighting  these  candles  with  a 
long  pole,  attended  by  a  gang  of  small  boys,  who  re- 
strained their  uncomplimentary  epithets  in  view  of 
the  coming  festivity.  And  scarcely  had  the  last  ele- 
vated dip  commenced  to  contribute  its  greasy  drop- 
pings to  the  gratuitous  shower  that  rained  everywhere 
upon  the  ball-room  floor,  when,  with  laughter  and 
merriment,  the  guests  began  to  arrive  and  take  up 
their  positions  on  the  hard  wooden  benches  that  were 
ranged  at  either  end  of  the  room. 

Of  course,  an  occasion  so  celebrated  as  this  crown- 
ing event  of  the  frontier  season  had  attracted  the 
widely  scattered  beauty  of  the  region.  The  affair  was 
graced  by  the  contributory  fascinations  of  outlying 
towns.  Miss  Cordelia  Delancey — the  "Wild  Rose  of 
San  Suba" — the  perfume  of  whose  attractions  had 
been  already  blown  abroad  by  the  prairie  breezes  as 
far  east  as  San  Marcus,  was  present  to  blossom  anew, 
and  to  excite  even  more  fragrant  fancies  in  the  minds 
of  her  poetic  admirers.  Miss  Flo'  Brooks,  clear-eyed 
and  bewitching,  held  out  alluringly  the  fascinations 
of  her  native  town  of  Paint  Rock.  There  were  other 
humbler  importations,  against  whose  staid  mediocrity 
these  celebrated  beauties  flashed  as  against  a  somber 
background.  The  local  honors  were  sustained  by 
Miss  Bertha  Maverick  and  Miss  Cynthia  Dallas. 

But  public  interest  in  the  San  Marcus  ball  was 
better  shown  in  the  attendance  of  the  men.  There 
was  a  generous  sprinkling  of  frontier  celebrities.  Mr. 
Joe  Treddle  was  on  hand,  generously  disguised  in 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

liquor,  having  accomplished  the  great  feat  of  riding 
from  San  Marcus  to  San  Saba  on  his  bicycle — a  dis- 
tance of  over  two  hundred  miles — and  finding  it  neces- 
sary to  stimulate  freely  to  overcome  fatigue  after  the 
exploit.  "Kickapoo  Dick"  lent  the  occasion  his  front- 
ier playfulness  and  humor.  Mr.  Josh  Blunt  was 
present,  the  truculent  but  unswerving  satellite  of  Miss 
Flo'  Brooks.  Captain  Jack  Foraker,  conspicuous 
among  the  bearded  cow-boys  for  his  military  bearing 
and  complacent  curling  of  his  gray  mustache,  was 
devoted  to  Cynthia,  but  generally  observant  of  the 
fair  ones,  as  if  he  were  under  the  impression  that  he 
was  giving  the  ladies  a  treat.  And  the  elder  Dal- 
las, morbidly  alive  to  the  fact  that  Foraker  was  his 
daughter's  escort,  had  placed  the  "Silent  Mary"  and 
his  violin  in  his  shaky  carry-all,  driven  down  to  San. 
Marcus,  and  put  in  an  early  appearance  on  the  scene 
of  action.  Stowing  the  heavy  goose-gun  carefully 
away  behind  the  ball-room  door,  so  that  it  might  be 
available  in  case  of  emergency,  he  entered  "  Tarrier's 
Hall"  with  his  trusty  fiddle  in  a  green-baize  bag  be- 
neath his  arm,  and  an  eye  biliously  observant  of  the 
festive  scene.  Not  that  he  really  had  any  intention 
of  playing  at  the  fete,  but  that,  in  his  nervous  anxiety 
for  his  daughter's  society,  he  took  it  along  with  him 
from  a  sense  of  loneliness  and  sympathy,  and  perhaps, 
too,  from  force  of  habit. 

A  certain  aged  violinist,  renowned  on  the  frontier 
for  his  music  and  erratic  evolutions  upon  the  floor 
while  playing,  had  already  opened  the  ball.  The 
waltz,  tortured  by  cow-boy  enthusiasts  into  something 
between  a  can-can  and  a  Dutch  "spiel,"  was  exciting 
the  laughter  of  Edith  Stafford  and  Henry  Bruce. 


152  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"You  see  some  strange  steps  here,"  remarked  that 
gentleman  to  Judge  Natchez,  who  was  present.  "At 
least,  they  strike  me  as  strange  from  their  novelty ; 
but  I  suppose  you  have  become  used  to  them." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  his  Honor,  smiling — the  gen- 
tleman was  descended  from  one  of  the  first  families 
of  Virginia — "not  at  all,  sir;  I  have  passed  a  good 
twenty  years  on  the  frontier,  but  there  are  some  steps 
taken  here  to-night  which  I  think  I  can  safely  say  I 
never  expect  to  get  used  to." 

"  Ab  uno  disce  omnia,"  and  I  say  no  more  of  the 
grotesque  evolutions  cut  that  night  by  slippered  and 
booted  feet.  If  Miss  Stafford  laughed,  it  was  guard- 
edly, for  she  feared  to  give  offense, .and,  whenever  she 
could,  she  disguised  the  cause  of  her  merriment  by 
glancing  at  the  fiddler,  who  collided  with  the  dancers, 
and  coruscated  about  the  ball-room  like  a  musical 
rocket. 

But,  at  one  time,  gravity  was  out  of  the  question. 
It  was  when  Alcides  Dallas — who  had  stood  aloof  in 
a  corner  of  the  room,  regarding  the  proceedings  with 
malevolence  and  ill-favor — all  at  once  selected  a  large 
chair,  and,  placing  it  gravely  in  the  center  of  the 
floor,  seated  himself  with  a  deliberation  that  was  un- 
mistakable. Here  he  removed  his  violin  from  the 
green-baize  bag,  and,  without  stopping  to  tune  it, 
entered  into  hearty  and  heart-breaking  rivalry  of  the 
regular  musician. 

No  pen  can  describe  the  order  of  dancing  from 
that  moment.  The  waltzing  continued,  interspersed 
by  frequent  lanciers  and  quadrilles,  but,  from  the 
time  that  Alcides  began  to  support  the  local  fiddler, 
the  muse  of  melody  fled  the  scene. 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST.  153 

"Isn't  the  floor  just  lovely  ?"  remarked  Miss  Ber- 
tha Maverick  to  her  escort,  after  an  intoxicating  whirl 
in  the  effort  to  keep  time  to  the  music. 

"Yes,"  returned  Mr.  Ludeling,  "the  floor  is  well 
enough,  but  the  orchestra  paralyzes  me  altogether  ;  lot 
us  walk  out  upon  the  gallery,  and  get  a  chance  to  think." 

And,  indeed,  the  more  philosophical,  and  those 
apparently  beyond  the  influence  of  sound,  followed 
the  suggestion.  Even  "Lampasas  Jake,"  who  was 
stone-deaf,  was  seen  to  leave  the  room  abruptly.  How 
far  the  rumor,  that  the  proprietor  of  the  Half-way 
House  had  broached  a  barrel  of  rye-whisky  in  the 
neighboring  wagon-shed,  may  have  influenced  this 
sudden  exodus,  is  a  matter  of  conjecture.  Certain  it 
is  that  many  of  those  who  left  returned  with  a  pecul- 
iar light  about  the  eye  and  a  disposition  to  friskiness 
in  deportment.  From  this  time  forward  it  was  no 
rarity  to  see  men  waltzing  together,  and  deriving  no 
end  of  satisfaction  from  the  entertainment.  There 
was  also  a  tendency,  on  the  part  of  certain  solitary 
dancers,  to  seek  some  quiet  corner  of  the  ball-room, 
and  sing  softly  to  themselves,  with  that  enjoyment 
which  only  alcohol  can  inspire.  It  may  have  been 
that  the  sudden  outbreak  of  the  elder  Dallas  was 
contagious ;  but,  be  that  as  it  may,  his  action,  at 
least,  afforded  Edith  the  pretext  she  required,  for 
scarcely  had  the  violin  duet  begun,  when  she  was  asked 
to  dance  by  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold.  Here  was  a  quandary. 
The  high-born  Northerner  hardly  cared  to  extend  this 
privilege  to  Mr.  Jerrold,  but  she  did  not  wish  to  hurt 
his  feelings,  in  view  of  his  gallant  behavior  in  her 
late  predicament.  So  she  fell  back  in  condemnation 
of  the  orchestra. 


154  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"Really,  Mr.  Jerrold,"  she  said,  smiling  sweetly 
up  into  his  face,  "  I  could  not  dance  one  step  to  such 
time  as  those  fiddles  are  playing.  I  have  just  refused 
Mr.  Bruce  here.  Shall  we  not  walk  upon  the  porch  ?  " 
And  with  this  pretext  she  left  the  room  on  the  arm 
of  her  deliverer. 

Bruce,  abandoned  thus  to  himself,  found  the  time 
drag  wearily.  He  was  not  edified  by  Cynthia's  be- 
havior with  Captain  Foraker.  Beyond  a  mere  slight 
recognition,  little  conversation  had  passed  between 
them.  But  throughout  the  evening  she  flirted  with 
the  officer  desperately,  and  with  an  ostentation  that 
irritated  Bruce.  The  captain  accepted  his  fair  com- 
panion's advances  complacently.  He  waltzed  a  great 
deal,  and,  it  was  noticeable,  left  the  ball-room  at  the 
end  of  every  dance.  By  degrees  the  effect  of  these 
frequent  trips  began  to  be  apparent  in  his  manner  and 
gestures.  He  did  not  confine  his  attentions  to  Cyn- 
thia, but  was  mildly  playful  and  familiar  with  the 
other  ladies.  Miss  Dallas  appeared  a  little  annoyed 
at  this,  but  attempted  to  disguise  it  in  conversation 
with  Miss  Maverick  and  her  escort. 

At  last,  during  one  of  his  most  genial  moments, 
Captain  Foraker  crossed  the  ball-room  unsteadily  to 
the  place  where  Edith  was  sitting.  She  had  returned, 
and  was  chatting  with  Mr.  Jerrold.  The  Captain 
posed  himself  engagingly  before  Miss  Stafford,  and, 
without  the  formality  of  an  introduction,  requested 
the  favor  of  the  next  dance.  Miss  Stafford  raised  her 
brown  eyes  in  surprise,  regarded  the  Captain  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  turned  coldly  away.  Temporarily 
disconcerted,  the  gentleman  described  a  half  circle  to 
the  left,  and  coming  back  to  the  same  point  repeated 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  155 

his  request.  His  gray  mustache,  elevated  at  an  in- 
ebriated angle,  gave  his  countenance  a  droll  expres- 
sion. 

"I  de-shire  favor  of-f  w-waltsh,"  repeated  the 
captain,  in  a  very  high  key. 

This  was  too  much  for  Henry  Bruce.  The  blood 
rushed  to  his  face  as  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

"You  forget  yourself,  sir!"  he  said,  sternly— 
"  the  lady  is  not  dancing,  and,  if  she  were,  you  are  not 
in  a  condition  to  remember  your  etiquette." 

Captain  Foraker  gazed  at  Bruce  in  a  dazed  way. 
It  was  a  ludicrous  but  critical  moment.  The  next  a 
blow  might  have  been  struck  and  a  scene  followed. 
The  moment  passed.  An  imbecile  smile  spread  itself 
over  his  puffed  face,  as  if  the  humor  of  his  predica- 
ment asserted  itself  in  spite  of  his  drunken  discom- 
fiture. He  turned  on  his  heel  and  returned  to  his 
position  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  room. 

A  diversion  was  here  afforded  by  the  entrance  of  a 
singular  figure.  He  was  a  tall,  lean,  cadaverous  man 
with  long,  jet-black  hair,  straggling  beard,  low  brows, 
and  piercing  black  eyes.  He  strolled  into  the  room, 
with  an  impudent  swagger,  his  slouch  hat  on  the  back 
of  his  head,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  his  panta- 
loons tucked  into  his  boots.  In  neglecting  other  de- 
tails of  his  toilet  he  had  also  omitted  his  ablutions,  and 
his  general  appearance  was  disordered  and  unsavory. 
But  none  of  these  facts  apparently  contributed  to  the 
general  sensation  at  his  entrance.  The  ladies  stared  ; 
the  men  scowled  ;  some  swore  and  others  laughed  ;  an 
audible  murmur  of  astonishment  went  round  the 
room.  But  the  effect  upon  Alcides  was  most  peculiar. 
It  put  an  instant  stop  to  his  music.  He  set  down  bow 


156  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  fiddle  and  rose  with  nervous  hast?.  After  re- 
garding the  intruder  a  second  with  a  glance  in  which 
rage  and  surprise  struggled  for  the  mastery,  he  took 
a  few  hasty  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  "  Silent 
Mary,"  apparently  thought  better  of  his  resolve,  came 
back,  and,  sweeping  chair,  violin,  and  bow  before 
him,  seated  himself  against  the  opposite  wall,  tilting 
back  and  plunging  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets  with 
an  expression  of  amazed  resignation.  In  this  position 
he  remained,  apparently  uncertain  what  he  should  do 
next. 

Meanwhile,  the  uncleanly  individual,  after  looking 
boldly  about  the  room,  sauntered  over  to  a  corner 
where  certain  of  the  uninvited  guests  were  standing, 
polluting  the  atmosphere  of  the  ball-room  with  cheap 
cigars,  and  generally  absorbed  in  the  incidents  of  the 
evening.  The  manner  in  which  the  new-comer  was 
received  by  this  group  was  in  no  sense  flattering.  No 
one  offered  a  word  of  greeting  or  even  a  sign  of  recog- 
nition. Apparently,  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Lemuel 
Wickson,  the  horse-thief,  upon  the  San  Marcus  fes- 
tivities was  regarded  as  an  intrusion. 

There  was  a  sudden  stir  near  the  door,  and  Sheriff 
Mosely  entered.  He  strode  to  the  center  of  the  ball- 
room with  his  quick,  nervous  stride,  and  cast  a  sharp 
glance  in  every  direction.  He  was  armed,  and  his 
manner  was  significant.  For  a  second  he  stood  quiet, 
his  small  figure  rigid,  his  alert  eyes  glancing  about. 
The  next  he  espied  Lemuel  Wickson,  and,  with  a 
hurried  gesture  to  his  belt,  he  sprang  forward. 

A  rush  in  that  quarter  on  the  part  of  the  men  im- 
mediately followed.  The  ladies  huddled  together — a 
frightened  bevy — at  the  upper  end  of  the  room. 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  157 

Lem  Wickson  awaited  the  approach  of  Sheriff 
Mosely  with  composure.  Beyond  the  slipping  of  his 
right  hand  carelessly  beneath  his  coat,  he  did  not 
change  his  attitude.  The  sheriff  did  not  stop  until 
he  reached  that  quarter  of  the  room,  when,  halting 
suddenly,  the  formality  of  a  surly  nod  was  exchanged. 

"Time's  up,  Lem,"  remarked  Ike,  coolly.  "I 
want  you." 

"What  for?"  demanded  Mr.  Wickson,  gruffly, 
without  moving  a  muscle. 

"In  partickler,  on  a  warrant  sworn  ag'in  you  for 
horse-stealin'  by  Alcides  Dallas  and  Buck  Jerrold," 
replied  Mr.  Mosely,  "but  it  orter  happened  some  time 
ago  for  hog-stealin'  and  gin'ral  cussedness." 

"Not  this  evenin',  Ike,"  replied  Lem,  incredu- 
lously, leaning  against  the  wall  and  allowing  one  hand 
to  rest  carelessly  on  his  hip.  "I  reckon  to  put  in 
my  time  at  this  hyai*  ball  to-night — dance  with  the 
gals,  and  enjoy  myself  gin'rally." 

"  Oh,  ye  do  ?  "  said  the  sheriff,  his  blue  eyes  tak- 
ing on  a  sudden,  hard  glitter ;  "well,  I  don't  reckon 
thet  little  divarsion  to  take  place,  if  thar's  any  law  in 
the  Lone  Star.  Wot's  more,  I'm  the  man  to  pre- 
vent it." 

He  made  a  quick  dash  at  his  belt  and  a  sudden 
spring  forward.  There  was  a  rush  and  a  scuffle,  dur- 
ing which  the  figures  of  both  men  whirled  before  the 
eyes  of  the  spectators.  A  second  later  Lem  Wick- 
son held  the  sheriff  by  the  throat,  his  right  hand 
leveling  upon  him  a  large  "Smith  and  Wesson." 

The  sheriff  struggled  frantically  in  his  gripe,  his 
hand  plucking  at  his  revolver,  which  appeared  to  be 
caught.  It  was  a  perilous  moment.  The  rough  men 


15S  A  NYMPH  OP  THE  WEST. 

looking  on  held  their  breath.  It  chanced  that  Henry 
Bruce  was  nearest  to  Wickson — the  brandished  weapon 
at  full-cock  within  the  reach  of  his  arm.  With  a 
sadden  dart  forward  he  grasped  the  horse  thief's 
wrist  with  his  left  hand,  and,  seizing  the  "  barrel- 
catch"  between  the  finger  and  thumb  of  his  right,  by 
a  quick,  strong  pull  unshipped  the  barrel,  throwing 
the  cartridges  all  over  the  room. 

It  was  an  act  sublime  in  its  desperation  and  the 
skill  of  its  achievement.  It  showed,  moreover,  a  re- 
remarkable  knowledge  of  the  weapon.  In  a  twinkling 
Bruce  had  closed  with  the  disarmed  and  astounded 
ruffian,  and  pinning  him  against  the  opposite  wall, 
released  the  sheriff. 

"  Well  done  ! "  gasped  the  nearly  throttled  Ike, 
glancing  admiringly  upon  Bruce.  He  took  a  pair  of 
handcuffs  from  his  pocket,  and  by  a  quick  movement 
secured  his  prisoner.  Then  he  turned  upon  the 
breathless  crowd. 

"I  don't  mind  sayin'  right  here,  thet  thet's  about 
the  neatest  trick  I  ever  yet  seen  done,  and  ef  Lem 
thar  bed  hed  a  '  Colt's/  my  life  wouldn't  been  worth 
a  pecan.  Dog-gone  this  old  greasy  belt ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, glancing  down  where  his  revolver  had  slipped 
beyond  the  hammer  in  the  worn  leather,  thereby  mak- 
ing it  difficult  to  draw — "dog-gone  it!  I  hev  hed 
trouble  with  thet  holster  afore,  and  now  it  nearly 
closed  my  record.  I  reckon  I'd  better  make  a  requi- 
sition for  a  new  belt." 

"  Give  us  yer  hand,  pardner,"  he  said  again,  turn- 
ing once  more  to  Henry  Bruce.  "It  does  Ike  Mosely 
good  to  feel  the  grip  of  a  good  man  and  true.  If  yer 
ever  wantin'  anythin'  very  bad,  or  needin'  any  help, 


A  NYMPn  OF  THE  WEST,  15Q 

I  reckon  ye  know  whar  you  kin  get  it  arter  to-night. 
Ye  kin  count  on  the  Sheriff  of  Oskaloo,  any  time,  and 
ez  often  ez  you  want  to,  for  the  last  drop  o'  his  blood. 
I  don't  know  on  the  whole,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden 
change  of  manner,  '"'but  what  I  might  as  well  cement 
that  statement  with  a  practical  snifter." 

He  took  a  flask  of  whisky  from  his  pocket  and  ex- 
tended it  to  Bruce. 

The  latter  declined  courteously. 

"Jes'  ez  you  say,"  remarked  Ike,  quietly,  "but 
yer  not  actin'  ez  sensible  ez  ye  did  a  minute  ago,  and 
yer  losin'  a  chance  to  sp'ile  some  mighty  good  liquor. 
I  sampled  this  myself." 

"  Well,"  he  said,  pausing  to  take  breath  before 
testing  the  qualities  of  his  flask,  "here's  the  health  of 
a  man  the  county  is  proud  of.  I'm  lookin'  at  ye, 
pardner,  along  with  the  rest  of  the  town  of  Oskaloo." 

He  raised  the  flask  to  his  lips  and  tossed  off  a 
draught  with  an  accompanying  smack.  With  charac- 
teristic good-will  he  turned  immediately  to  Wickson. 

"No  hard  feelin's,  Lem,"  he  said,  generously, 
"  seein'  the  late  onpleasantness  is  over.  Ef  yer  feel- 
in'  like  tryin'  this  stuff, 'I  don't  mind  holdin'  it  fur  ye 
to  git  the  benefit." 

He  extended  the  flask  good-humoredly  to  the  lat- 
ter's  lips.  But  Mr.  Wickson  was  not  in  the  humor 
for  whisky,  and  signified  it  by  turning  impatiently 
away. 

"All  right,"  said  Ike,  restoring  the  flask  to  his 
pocket,  without  pressing  his  hospitality  further  upon 
the  thronging  crowd,  a  few  of  whom  wore  an  expres- 
sion which  made  it  evident  that  refusal  was  extremely 
unlikely. 


160  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

"  It's  a  sing'lar  thing,  sometimes,  how  good  licker 
goes  beggin'.  Not  thet  it  often  occurs  here  in  Texas, 
but  thet,  when  it  does,  it's  worth  while  to  take  note  of 
it.  I  disremember  any  such  depressin'  state  of  facts, 
sence  I  felt  called  upon  to  invent  thet  'temperance 
mead  '  for  the  ball  over  at  Brady. — Good-evenin',  gen- 
tlemen. I  trust  I  heven't  materially  interfered  with 
the  festivities." 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  and,  with  his  hand  on  the 
arm  of  his  prisoner,  left  the  ball-room. 

Of  course  so  exciting  an  occurrence  as  the  recent 
arrest,  was  not  without  its  effect  upon  the  general 
gayety.  After  the  sheriff's  departure,  it  was  a  difficult 
matter  to  get  the  frightened  ladies  in  the  humor  to 
resume  dancing.  Possibly  this  difficulty  was  materi- 
ally increased  by  the  fact  that  the  fiddler  was  not  to 
be  found,  but  was  at  last  discovered  asleep  in  an  old 
carry-all  in  the  shed,  hard  by  the  whisky-cask  already 
alluded  to,  and  with  a  glass  of  spirits  in  his  hand. 
His  violin  had  fallen  from  his  grasp  during  his  recent 
alcoholic  weakness,  and  had  been  crushed  by  the  boot- 
heel  of  some  other  follower  of  Bacchus. 

No  one  dared  think  of  the  elder  Dallas  in  this 
emergency,  but  he,  too,  had  fled  the  ball-room. 
Under  these  discouraging  circumstances  the  ladies 
lingered  a  little,  chatting  with  their  escorts,  and  by- 
and-by  began  to  go  home. 

Edith  and  Henry  Bruce  remained  long  enough  to 
see  certain  patrons  of  the  whisky-keg  enter  upon  an 
entertaining  pastime.  Having  discovered  that  the 
drippings  from  the  candles  were  now  pretty  evenly 
distributed  by  the  recent  dancing,  some  genius  at- 
tempted to  improvise  a  slide.  The  idea  became 


A  NYMPII  OF  THE  WEST. 

speedily  popular,  and  soon  a  long  line  of  boisterous 
revelers  were  joined  in  this  ambitious  effort  to  trans- 
form the  ball-room  into  a  skating-rink.  The  edify- 
ing diversion  was  continued  until  a  late  hour  of  the 
evening. 

The  clear,  round  moon  rode  high  and  shone  deeply 
down  when  Bruce  and  Edith  departed.  As  they  did 
so,  the  former  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  figure,  skulking 
along  beneath  the  bright  light,  and  carrying  a  heavy 
gun.  It  was  Alcides  Dallas. 

The  singular  movements  of  the  old  man  awakened 
his  curiosity,  and  his  eye  mechanically  followed  him 
as  he  moved  up  the  road.  He  appeared  to  be  follow- 
ing some  one  and  suspiciously  noting  his  movements. 
Glancing  ahead,  Bruce  beheld  in  one  of  the  moonlit 
spaces  of  the  level  road  the  figures  of  Cynthia  and 
Captain  Foraker  proceeding  slowly.  Miss  Bertha 
Maverick  and  the  younger  Mr.  Ludeling  were  some 
distance  behind.  The  captain  was  walking  unsteadily, 
and  discussing  some  question  in  a  decidedly  loud  tone 
of  voice  ;  Cynthia  was  endeavoring  to  quiet  him. 

Bruce  could  not  repress  a  smile,  as  he  realized  that 
the  entire  party  were  unconsciously  under  the  armed 
surveillance  of  the  suspicious  Alcides.  But,  though 
in  a  measure  amused,  he  did  not  direct  the  attention 
of  the  fastidious  young  lady  at  his  side  to  the  humor 
of  the  incident.  During  the  walk  home  he  conversed 
but  little,  being  occupied  with  his  reflections.  At 
length,  when  they  arrived  at  the  Half-way  House,  he 
surprised  Miss  Stafford  with  the  information  that  he 
intended  taking  a  short  ride  or  walk  before  retir- 
ing. 

"  At  this  hour  of  the  night  ?"  exclaimed  Edith, 
11 


1C2  -A-  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

who  was  a  trifle  piqued  by  his  recent  abstraction.  "  I 
should  think,  Hal,  you  were  absolutely  daft." 

"Not  in  the  least ;  only  bored  with  the  noise  and 
excitement  of  that  pandemonium,"  Bruce  replied,  as 
they  passed  up  the  broad  steps  of  the  veranda. 

He  bade  her  good-night  in  the  hallway,  and  turned 
away,  leaving  her  gazing  curiously  after  him  as  he 
went  out  again  into  the  moonlight. 


XL 


HENRY  BRUCE  walked  rapidly  away  in  the  mellow 
light  of  the  moon.  By  the  side  of  a  leprous  sycamore 
he  paused  to  light  a  cigar.  In  the  quick,  upspring- 
ing  light  of  the  match  he  beheld  a  man,  seated  upon 
the  door-stone  of  Murray's  store  and  dejectedly  smok- 
ing. The  soft  moon-rays  beat  gently  down  upon  the 
dejected  figure,  idealizing  his  attitude.  The  man  was 
armed,  and  his  revolvers  glanced  in  the  moonlight. 
A  large,  rawboned  horse  stood  gauntly  outlined  in  the 
shadow.  Bruce  recognized  Buck  Jerrold  and  the 
erratic  "Buckshot." 

"A  fine  night  for  a  ride,"  he  said,  puffing  his 
cigar. 

Mr.  Jerrold  raised  his  head  gloomily. 

"Well  enough  for  them  ez  cares  to  ride,"  he  as- 
sented, "but  I  ain't  in  no  humor  fer  thet  sort  of 
amusement." 

"Tastes  differ,"  replied  Bruce,  pleasantly,  noting 
the  other's  manner,  and  shrewdly  divining  its  cause. 
"  Now,  I  should  like  nothing  better — myself." 

"  Why  don't  ye  start  in  then  ?  "  returned  Mr.  Jer- 
rold; "I'm  sure  thar's  prairie  enough  before  ye  to 
make  it  an  object." 

"Simply  because  I  have  no  horse,"   Bruce  re- 


1G4:  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

joined.     "  I  came  over  from  the  ranch  with  the  rest 
of  my  party  in  a  carriage." 

"  Wai,  ef  thet's  all  thet  stands  in  yer  way,"  replied 
the  accommodating  Mr.  Jerrold,  taking  his  pipe  from 
his  lips,  "  thar's  *  Buckshot.'  Barrin'  a  disposition  to 
rare  and  '  buck '  HOW  and  then,  ez  ye've  seen,  he's  a 
peart  hoss  enough,  and  is  at  your  service.  For  myself, 
I've  got  enough  to  think  about,  without  ridin'  into 
the  bargain." 

He  took  a  six-shooter  from  his  belt  and  regarded 
it  absently,  cocking  and  uncocking  the  weapon  with 
the  finger  and  thumb  of  his  brawny  right  hand.  The 
clicking  of  the  lock  sounded  ominously  in  the  still 
night. 

Bruce  looked  curiously  at  the  man  before  availing 
himself  of  his  offer.  He  seemed  to  have  something 
upon  his  mind.  However,  he  untethered  "Buck- 
shot," and  hanging  the  long  riata  from  the  saddle- 
bow, sprang  into  the  saddle. 

"Where  shall  I  find  you,  to  return  your  horse  ?" 
he  inquired. 

"  Oh,  anywhere,"  Mr.  Jerrold  replied,  indifferent- 
ly. "Hitch  him  where  you  like  in  town,  or  leave 
him  at  the  'Two  Brothers.'  I'm  sure  to  find  him." 

"All  right,"  replied  Bruce,  dashing  away. 

He  rode  at  a  swinging  gallop  through  the  main 
street  of  the  little  frontier  town,  the  hoofs  of  his 
horse  echoing  loudly  on  the  level  road.  In  a  few 
moments  he  had  left  the  settlement  behind  him  and 
was  alone  upon  the  vast,  illimitable  plain. 

The  grateful  transition  from  the  feverish  scene  he 
had  recently  quitted  to  the  perfect  freedom  of  bound- 
less space,  brought  to  his  spirit  a  sense  of  rest  and 


A  NTMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  165 

peace.  The  night  was  so  serene,  so  calm,  so  passion- 
less !  Everywhere  the  dominant  moon  silvered  the 
landscape  with  the  distinctness  of  day.  The  slopes 
of  the  San  Marcus  hills  stood  revealed  in  the  moon- 
light, and  seemed  to  have  encroached  upon  the  level 
plain,  rimming  the  horizon  with  deepest  blue.  The 
live-oaks,  dotting  the  prairie,  stood  out  clearly,  and 
the  mesquites  appeared  like  shivering  ghosts  slipping 
past  him  in  the  shadow.  It  was  very  still.  The 
thousand  fragrant  odors  of  the  prairie  rose  upon  him 
as  he  rode  forward.  Occasionally,  the  low  hoot  of  an 
owl,  or  the  prolonged  howl  of  a  coyote,  broke  the 
monotony.  He  came  suddenly  upon  a  troop  of  mus- 
tangs, visiting  a  neighboring  "salt-lick,"  and  in  an 
instant  the  lonely  waste  awoke  to  life  and  animation. 
The  surprised  caballada  wheeled  in  the  moonlight  and 
broke  away  with  many  a  frisk  and  gambol.  From  a 
a  spirit  of  emulation,  Bruce  put  "Buckshot"  to 
his  paces,  and  rode  after  them  at  the  top  of  his 
speed. 

After  a  long,  exhilarating  canter,  he  checked  his 
panting  horse  and  rode  back  upon  his  tracks.  The 
excitement  of  the  recent  chase  and  the  stimulus  of 
physical  exercise  had  quite  dispelled  the  feeling  of 
irritation  which  had  driven  him  out  of  town  at  this 
unseemly  hour  upon  horseback.  Aside  from  his  en- 
counter in  the  sheriff's  behalf,  which  had  naturally 
reacted  somewhat  upon  his  nerves,  there  were  other 
things  which  had  tended  to  disturb  the  equanimity 
of  his  temper. 

As  he  rode  on  in  the  stillness,  unbroken  save  by 
the  monotonous  footfall  of  his  horse,  his  thoughts 
constantly  reverted  to  Cynthia  and  her  behavior  with 


1G6  A  NYMrn  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  captain.     It  had  annoyed   him  undeniably,  and 
without  his  knowing  why. 

Bruce  did  not  believe  himself  to  be  interested  in 
Miss  Dallas.  Having  little  of  that  vanity  which  char- 
acterizes most  men,  it  had  probably  never  occurred 
to  him,  that  much  of  Cynthia's  apparent  interest  in 
Foraker  was  prompted  by  pique  at  his  own  refusal  to 
act  as  her  escort.  He  was  aware  that  the  quaint, 
breezy  little  maiden,  who  had  rescued  him  so  pluckily 
from  his  predicament  in  the  Colorado,  some  months 
before,  interested  him  greatly  ;  that  he  felt  strangely 
drawn  toward  her,  whenever  he  found  himself  in  her 
society  ;  and  that,  being  impelled  by  a  thoroughly 
masculine  impulse  to  favor  her  with  sound  advice 
and  beneficial  counsel,  he  was  annoyed  to  find  that 
she  ignored  it. 

An  incident  of  the  early  evening  had  not  tended 
to  increase  the  serenity  of  his  temper.  It  was  when, 
upon  first  recognizing  Cynthia  at  the  ball  in  company 
with  Foraker,  he  had  so  far  forgotten  himself  in  his 
suspicion  of  the  man  as  to  inquire  : 

"  Who  is  that  fellow,  Cynthia  ?" 

"  A  gentleman,"  Miss  Dallas  replied,  provokingly. 
The  rebuke  was  crushing.  He  writhed  under  it  now 
at  the  recollection. 

But,  doubtless,  what  most  annoyed  Bruce  was 
Cynthia's  appearing  in  public  with  the  man  against 
whom  he  had  taken  the  trouble  to  warn  her.  On 
behalf  of  my  sex,  I  may  be  pardoned  the  reflection 
that  the  perversity  of  woman  is  often  vexatious,  and 
that  the  cheerful  obstinacy  with  which  they  ignore 
common  sense  quite  frequently  paralyzes  masculine 
prudence. 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  167 

The  sudden  hoof-beats  of  a  horse  caused  him  to 
look  up.  So  absorbed  had  he  been  in  his  reflections 
that  he  had  taken  no  heed  of  his  surroundings.  He 
found  himself  on  the  San  Marcus  highway,  at  some 
distance  from  the  town.  A  horseman  was  coming 
toward  him,  mounted  upon  a  powerful  gray.  The 
moonlight  glanced  upon  the  epaulets  and  other  deco- 
rations of  the  rider.  The  cause  of  his  evening's  an- 
noyance stood  before  his  eyes. 

Captain  Jack  Foraker  was  evidently  the  worse  for 
his  evening's  gayety.  He  had  spent  the  latter  portion 
of  the  night  in  visiting  the  neighboring  saloons,  and 
in  monotonous  patronage  of  the  San  Marcus  bars. 
At  length,  being  suddenly  impressed  with  the  neces- 
sity of  presenting  himself  for  roll-call  at  the  garrison, 
he  had  reeled  to  the  stable,  kicked  the  sleepy  ostler 
into  consciousness,  and  rolling  his  semi-inebriated  per- 
son into  the  saddle,  started  out  of  town  an  hour  be- 
fore sunrise. 

It  was  this  exhilarated  individual,  with  difficulty 
bestriding  his  gallant  gray  charger,  who  encountered 
Henry  Bruce  a  half-hour  later  on  the  San  Marcus 
road.  It  was  this  gentleman  who,  instantly  recogniz- 
ing him  in  the  clear  light  of  the  moon,  drew  rein  to 
intercept  him ;  and  it  was  he  who  accosted  him 
angrily,  albeit  incoherently,  having  apparently  some 
grievance  for  which  he  wished  redress. 

Bruce,  at  once  noting  the  condition  of  the  re- 
doubtable captain,  turned  his  horse  aside  and  endeav- 
ored to  pass  him  without  replying  ;  but  Foraker,  per- 
ceiving his  intent,  put  spurs  to  his  gray  and  cannoned 
into  him  with  a  force  that  compelled  him  to  halt. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?"  demanded  Bruce, 


168  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

with  difficulty  reining  in  the  prancing  "Buckshot" 
after  the  collision. 

"  I've  got  suthin'  to  say  to  you,  young  feller,"  said 
the  captain,  thickly,  rising  in  his  stirrups,  and  lean- 
ing forward  over  the  neck  of  his  horse  in  an  aggress- 
ive way.  He  emphasized  his  remarks  with  his  heavy 
riding-whip.  "  You  insulted  me  to-night.  I  want 
you  to  und'shtan'  I'm  a  West-Point'r,  and  a  damned 
sight  too  good  company  for  any  girl,  you  or  any  other 
tender-foot  eshcorts  to  a  ball.  You  hear  me  ?"  he  de- 
manded, with  drunken  directness,  raising  his  voice. 
"Wass  more,  she  ain't  much  on  looks  anyway,  nor 
style  either  ;  and  there  wasn't  any  occasion  for  you  to 
be  so  damned  exclusive."  Then,  leaning  over  his 
saddle  with  an  insulting  air  of  giving  very  important 
advice,  "  You  want  to  be  devilish  careful,  young  fel- 
ler, or  you'll  get  yourself  into  trouble — mind  that." 

"  Stand  aside  ! "  Bruce  broke  in  sternly,  reining 
back  his  horse  as  if  about  to  ride  on. 

"  Tryin'  to  get  away  1 "  said  the  captain,  with  a 
sneer,  attempting  to  intercept  him  by  keeping  his 
gray  in  front  of  him  with  whip  and  spur — "tryin'  to 
get  away — are  ye  ?  I  want  you  to  und'shtan',  young 
feller,  you  can't  do  that  until  I'm  done  with  you.  I 
want  you  to  und'shtan' — " 

But  here  Bruce  struck  " Buckshot"  sharply  and 
attempted  to  dash  by  him. 

The  captain  saw  his  intent,  and,  striking  his  spurs 
into  his  horse,  made  an  effort  to  stop  him  a  second 
time,  by  running  into  him.  The  effort  proved  futile. 
"  Buckshot "  had  already  got  under  way.  Enraged 
at  his  want  of  success,  Foraker  rose  in  his  stirrups, 
and,  as  Bruce  passed  him,  struck  him  over  the  head 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  169 

with  his  heavy  riding-whip,  summoning  to  the  effort 
all  the  strength  he  could  muster. 

The  blow  made  Bruce  reel  in  his  saddle.  For  a 
moment  he  feared  he  should  be  unseated.  The  next, 
wheeling  his  horse  about,  he  dashed  against  Foraker, 
closing  with  him  in  a  mounted  struggle  for  the 
whip. 

As  the  horses  came  together,  Bruce  saw  the  cap- 
tain shift  his  whip  to  his  left  hand  suddenly,  and 
caught  the  ominous  glitter  of  a  revolver  in  the  light 
of  the  moon.  He  had  barely  time  to  crouch  in  the 
saddle  when  the  weapon  was  fired,  the  bullet  whistling 
close  above  his  head.  Clearly,  the  time  for  temporiz- 
ing had  passed.  Forbearance  was  now  suicidal.  In 
an  instant  Bruce  had  drawn  his  own  pistol,  and,  as 
the  captain  raised  his  arm  a  second  time,  he  leveled  it 
upon  him. 

The  two  weapons  exploded  simultaneously — the 
flash  from  his  opponent's  revolver  almost  blinding 
Bruce  as  the  deafening  reports  rang  out  upon  the  still 
air.  At  the  sound  of  the  shots  the  horses  sprang 
apart,  and,  through  the  smoke  that  hung  heavily  be- 
tween them,  Bruce  could  see  the  captain  endeavoring 
with  difficulty  to  keep  the  saddle.  Hardly  had  he 
realized  that  he  was  himself  unhurt,  when  Foraker 
swayed  suddenly  in  his  stirrups  and  fell  heavily  to 
the  ground.  The  gray  trotted  off  a  few  paces,  and 
then  stopped  quietly  to  graze. 

Bruce  threw  himself  from  his  horse  and  bent  over 
the  prostrate  man.  The  captain  was  lying  upon  his 
face,  his  hand  still  grasping  the  revolver.  A  slight 
smoke  issued  from  the  damp  barrel.  As  he  turned 
the  body  over,  something  warm  fell  upon  his  hand, 


170  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

causing  him  an  indescribable  thrill.  It  was  blood — 
from  a  wound  in  the  breast.  The  red  drops  were 
trickling  fast  over  the  front  of  his  uniform.  Foraker 
was  dead. 

Notwithstanding  the  justice  of  his  action,  Bruce 
rose  to  his  feet  with  an  overmastering  feeling  of  awe. 
As  he  stood  gazing  down  at  the  dead  man,  and  the 
eyes,  so  lately  opened  upon  him  in  hate,  stared  blank- 
ly up  into  his,  he  tottered  and  felt  faint.  White  as 
was  the  face  of  the  dead,  his  own  was  yet  whiter,  and 
took  on  a  ghastly  expression  in  the  cold,  gray  light 
that  seemed  suddenly  to  possess  earth  and  sky.  Bruce 
gazed  vacantly  about  him  and  realized  that  it  was 
morning.  A  faint  flush  was  visible  in  the  east. 

It  was  no  sense  of  guilt,  but  the  sickening  realiza- 
tion of  having  sent  a  human  being  to  his  long  account, 
that  made  his  heart  heavy  as  he  mounted  again  and 
rode  slowly  back  along  the  level  road ;  it  was  the 
horror  of  the  thing.  So  far  as  the  act  itself  was  con- 
cerned, it  was  clearly  justifiable.  It  had  been  done 
in  self-defense. 

His  mind  was  made  up  as  to  what  he  should  do. 
He  would  ride  back  to  San  Marcus,  seek  out  Sheriff 
Mosely,  acknowledge  the  shooting  and  the  circum- 
stances, and  give  himself  up.  For  a  moment  his 
courage  misgave  him,  as  he  realized  that  there  had 
been  no  witness  to  the  encounter,  and  that  his  justifi- 
cation must  rest  upon  his  own  unsupported  statement. 
He  was  pondering  this  fact  with  deep  and  increasing 
misgiving,  as  he  rode  forward,  when  a  familiar  voice 
hailed  him  just  ahead,  so  abruptly  as  to  startle  him 
and  cause  him  to  stop  short.  Four  mounted  men 
had  halted  on  the  highway  in  front  of  him.  It  was 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

now  broad  daylight.  Bruce  recognized  the  familiar 
figure  of  Ike  Mosely  in  the  man  who  had  addressed 
him.  His  deputies,  Jake  Sharp  and  "Humly  Jim," 
were  assisting  him  as  mounted  escort,  in  conducting 
the  horse-thief,  Lem  Wickson,  to  the  military  jail  at 
Bradford  Post. 

"How  now,  pardner?"  remarked  Mr.  Mosely, 
genially,  slipping  one  foot  free  from  the  leather  stir- 
rup, and  throwing  his  leg  easily  over  the  pommel  of 
his  saddle  ;  "  yer  takin'  rather  an  early  constitutional, 
ain't  ye,  fur  one  who's  been  up  pretty  near  all  night  ? 
I  ain't  specially  fond  of  ridin'  before  breakfast  myself, 
but  Lem,  here,  was  so  anxious  about  gettin'  into  com- 
fortable quarters,  I  reckoned  we'd  better  humor  him, 
so  we've  started  for  the  Post.  P'raps  you'll  reconsider 
on  thet  position  of  yours  last  night,  and  be  willin'  to 
celebrate  thet  pistol  trick  with  a  leetle  genooine  ope- 
deldock." 

He  produced  the  well-known  flask  as  he  spoke, 
and  extended  it  hospitably  toward  him. 

Bruce  could  hardly  force  a  smile  at  the  sheriff's 
facetiousuess.  However,  he  took  the  flask  and  drank 
a  swallow  of  its  contents.  It  braced  his  nerves.  In 
a  few  words  he  recounted  what  had  happened. 

"  Ye  don't  say  ! "  remarked  Mosely,  when  he  had 
finished.  "So  ye  called  Foraker  in,  eh  ? — jest  natch- 
'ally  dropped  him,  right  in  his  tracks,  when  he  had 
a  bead  on  you  fust  ?  Wai,  now,  pardner,  I  congratu- 
late you.  Ef  you'd  like  a  recommend  to  jine  '  the 
Hangers,'  any  time  you're  up  our  way,  I  reckon  Ike 
Mosely  will  be  on  hand  with  the  necessary  papers. — I 
tell  you  what,  boys,"  he  said,  turning  round  in  the 
saddle  suddenly,  and  addressing  the  two  deputies, 


172  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

"  thet's  rather  sarcastic  on  a  West-Pointer,  rakin'  a 
soger  out  of  his  boots,  when  he  was  fust  with  his 
weapon  ! " 

Jake  Sharp  and  "Humly  Jim,"  seeing  that  the 
great  man  was  disposed  to  be  jovial,  received  the  re- 
flection with  ghastly  merriment. 

"How's  thet  ?"  ejaculated  Mosely,  turning  again 
to  Bruce,  as  the  latter  repeated  his  intention  of  giving 
himself  up.  "  You're  thinkin'  of  comin'  along  with 
us  ?  I  reckon  we've  got  about  all  we  kin  take  care  of 
to-day,"  winking  craftily  at  the  deputies.  "Lem, 
here,  'a  a  big  contract  to  handle,  and  it's  pretty  good 
and  free  country  all  round  about  here.  My  eyes 
sorter  failin'  me  after  last  night's  business,  and  my 
hearin'  bein'  onsartin,  I  don't  know  ez  I  hev  any 
knowledge  of  this  onexpected  meetin'  out  here  on  the 
road.  I  reckon,  ef  I  should  ever -get  to  hear  of  any 
sech  encounter,  it  might  be  necessary  fur  me  to  take 
some  action  ;  but  ez  the  case  stands  jest  now,  ye  see, 
I'm  not  aware  thet  anything  out  of  the  ornery  hez  oc- 
curred." 

In  spite  of  the  sheriff's  humorous  reception  of  the 
event  of  the  early  morning,  Bruce  still  persisted  in 
his  plan  of  giving  himself  up,  urging  that  this  was 
the  best  and  most  honorable  way  of  clearing  himself 
from  the  imputation  of  foul  play.  To  this  the  genial 
Ike  cheerfully  opposed  the  folly  of  any  one's  putting 
himself  in  the  clutches  of  the  law  for  killing  his  ad-, 
versary  in  a  fair  fight,  and  the  risk  of  exposing  him- 
self to  the  infuriated  soldiery  at  the  Post,  who  would 
naturally  feel  a  partisan  resentment  at  the  death  of 
their  chief. 

Finding  at  length   that  Bruce  was  determined, 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST.  1Y3 

Mosely  reluctantly  acquiesced,  but  insisted  that  he 
should  accompany  them  as  if  merely  a  traveling  com- 
panion and  not  under  arrest.  Bruce  was  about  to 
comply,  when  it  suddenly  dawned  upon  him  that  he 
was  riding  "Buckshot,"  and  that  he  might  be  sus- 
pected of  having  stolen  the  horse — an  act  generally 
regarded  by  Lone  Star  tribunals  to  be  less  justifiable 
than  actual  homicide.  He  explained  his  position  to 
the  sheriff. 

"Don't  let  thet  worry  you,"  replied  that  worthy, 
quickly,  cutting  the  Gordian  knot  of  the  difficulty 
with  official  promptitude.  "Ef  you're  bound  to 
make  me  arrest  ye,  thet  matter's  easily  settled. 
Freeze  to  the  critter,  pardner,  for  the  rest  of  this 
trip.  The  State  allows  me  to  provide  the  means 
of  bringin'  in  my  prisoners,  understand  ?  It  won't 
bother  Jerrold  much.  I  reckon  I'll  attach  the  ani- 
mal fur  your  partickler  benefit." 


XII. 

THE  event  of  the  San  Marcus  ball  had  not  proved 
entirely  satisfactory  to  Cynthia,  nor  her  stay  with 
Miss  Bertha  Maverick  an  unalloyed  delight.  She  re- 
turned to  the  Dallas  Ranch  with  a  very  decided  feeling 
of  disappointment.  Perhaps  the  behavior  of  Alcides 
on  the  evening  in  question  sensibly  aggravated  this 
state  of  mind. 

The  door  had  hardly  closed  on  the  departing 
Foraker,  whsn  the  old  man  presented  himself,  gun  in 
hand,  before  the  astonished  Maverick  household,  and 
excitedly  announced  his  intention  of  taking  bis  daugh- 
ter back  home  with  him  that  very  night.  In  vain 
Cynthia  pleaded  fatigue,  and  Miss  Bertha  declared 
that  the  festivities  of  the  week  were  not  ended ;  in 
vain  the  accommodating  blacksmith  extended  to  Al- 
cides the  hospitalities  of  his  dwelling,  and  urged  that 
it  was  too  late  altogether  to  think  of  attempting  the 
journey ;  the  old  man  remained  obdurate,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  comply. 

It  will  be  understood,  by  my  feminine  readers,  that 
the  young  lady  did  this  with  a  very  ill  grace,  and  that 
she  rose  rather  late  upon  the  following  day,  a  little 
fretful  and  cross  in  consequence. 

"I  suppose  them  ear-rings  didn't  fetch  thet  For- 
aker to  the  extent  she  expected,"  commented  Alcides, 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  175 

who  was  making  preparations  to  ride  into  town  for 
some  family  stores  he  had  forgotten.  The  elder  Dal- 
las referred  to  some  jewelry  of  glaring  pattern  he  had 
recently  purchased  for  Cynthia.  He  was  not  alto- 
gether confident  of  the  purity  or  appropriateness  of 
his  own  taste.  He  continued  his  preparations  for  de- 
parture, but  was  quietly  observant  and  critical. 

Miss  Dallas  took  no  notice  of  the  solicitude  of  her 
sire.  She  was  annoyed  and  displeased  for  many  rea- 
sons :  at  her  father,  for  his  abrupt  termination  of  her 
visit ;  at  Henry  Bruce,  for  not  proffering  the  atten- 
tions she  had  determined  beforehand  to  thwart  ;  at 
the  captain,  for  his  susceptibility  to  the  attractions  of 
other  belles,  and  his  disposition  to  be  convivial  while 
in  her  company.  Cynthia  was  too  experienced  in  the 
society  of  the  frontier  to  be  either  puritanical  or 
prudish  in  the  matter  of  beverages,  but  she  resented 
the  captain's  indulgence,  under  the  circumstances, 
with  the  sincerity  it  deserved. 

Then  there  were  other  matters  of  solicitude — not 
so  apparent  to  the  masculine  mind,  but  which  a  sym- 
pathetic sex  will  readily  appreciate — matters  between 
herself  and  Miss  Bertha,  wherein  the  rival  charms  of 
the  young  ladies  had  come  in  collision,  resulting  in 
consequent  jealousy  and  woe. 

The  agony  of  mind,  induced  by  such  a  succession 
of  causes,  is  readily  apparent ;  so  that  later,  when  Mr. 
Buck  Jerrold  suddenly  rode  up  to  the  ranch-gate  and 
threw  himself  from  the  saddle,  he  was  welcomed  with 
a  cordiality  that  might  have  been  misleading. 

"  What  hoss  ye  got  thar,  Buck  ?  "  inquired  Al- 
cides,  suspiciously,  noting  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
daughter's  manner.  "  Ain't  thet  Foraker's  gray  ?  " 


176  A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

"I  reckon  so/'  Mr.  Jerrold  returned,  with  a 
gravity  of  manner  that  impressed  both  Alcides  and 
Cynthia — "I  reckon  so,  Al,  and  I  don't  wonder  ye 
ask  me.  The  fact  is,  so  much  hez  taken  place  sence 
last  night,  thet  I  kin  hardly  git  it  straight  myself  or 
git  started  to  tell  it.  I'm  ridin'  thet  hoss  because 
I've  got  permission  from  Jedge  Pemberton  to  do  so, 
and  because  Ike  Mosely  hez  seized  '  Buckshot '  to 
transport  a  prisoner  to  the  jail  at  Bradford  Post." 

He  glanced  quickly  at  Cynthia. 

"  To  cut  a  long  story  short,"  he  continued,  avert- 
ing his  eyes  from  the  girl's  face,  "  Jack  Foraker  was 
found  lyin'  dead  on  the  prairie,  this  mornin',  with  a 
bullet- wound  in  his  left  breast.  His  hoss  was  grazin' 
quietly  in  the  neighborhood.  Thar  wasn't  any  ex- 
planation of  the  shootin',  and  all  sorts  of  theories 
were  flyin'  about  at  San  Marcus,  when  a  couple  of  fel- 
lers rode  into  town  and  allowed,  thet  they  met  Ike 
Mosely  and  his  deputies  half-way  to  the  Post,  and  thet 
they  hed  the  man  who  done  it." 

"  And  who  was  it  ?  "  asked  Alcides,  breathlessly. 

Buck  Jerrold  glanced  again  at  Cynthia.  She  was 
seated  on  the  door-stone  of  the  ranch,  with  clasped 
hands  and  startled  eyes,  noting  every  detail  of  the 
intelligence. 

"  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  the  matter  myself, 
one  way  or  t'other,"  responded  Buck,  turning  his 
eyes  inward  as  if  to  escape  the  imputation  of  being 
responsible  for  what  he  was  about  to  communicate, 
"but  Kidge  Bartram  said  thet  the  man  they  hed  was 
ridin'  '  Buckshot,'  and  thet  he  hed  confessed  to  hevin' 
shot  Foraker  in  a  hand-to-hand  fight  on  hossback 
early  this  mornin'." 


A.  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  177 

"But  who  was  it?"  Cynthia  broke  in  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Henry  Bruce,"  said  Jerrold,  quietly. 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  Dallas  and  Jerrold  ex- 
changed glances.  A  moment  later  Cynthia  rose  to 
her  feet,  white  as  the  neighboring  wall,  and  ran 
quickly  into  the  house.  In  the  hush  that  followed 
her  departure  the  two  men  grew  restless. 

The  old  man  was  the  first  to  speak,  and  when  he 
did  so,  it  was  in  tones  of  exultation. 

"  Wai,  dern  my  skin,  ef  thet  young  feller  don't 
deserve  the  thanks  of  the  entire  county  ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, slapping  his  leg  in  self-congratulation  over 
Foraker's  untimely  decease.  "I  allers  did  take  con- 
sider'ble  stock  in  Henry  Bruce,  and  now  I'm  a  tender- 
foot, ef  he  ain't  riz  in  my  estimation  a  clean  hundred 
per  cent ! " 

Buck  Jerrold  assented  with  less  emphasis.  He 
was  pondering  the  absence  of  Cynthia. 

"  Thar's  no  discountin'  the  fact  thet  Jack  Fora- 
ker's death's  a  public  benefit,"  he  replied,  with  cheer- 
ful philosophy.  "But  I  reckon,  Al,  thar's  a  good 
many  ez  is  takin'  pretty  hard  the  mess  young  Bruce 
hez  got  himself  inter.  It  seemed  to  break  the  Ker- 
nochans  up  pretty  bad,  and  Miss  Stafford  was  plumb 
beside  herself.  They  left  town  fur  the  '  Mesquite 
Kanch,'  ez  soon  ez  they  learned  the  facts  ;  and  Phil 
Kernochan  said  he  was  goin'  to  the  Post  arterwards." 

A  slight  rustling  in  the  direction  of  Cynthia's  bed- 
room showed  that  Mr.  Jerrold's  facts  were  noted. 

"  Dog  gone  it,  Buck,  ye're  right ! "  exclaimed  Al- 
cides,  suddenly,  as  the  possible  danger  of  Bruce's  po- 
sition suggested  itself  to  his  mind.  "Them  sogers  of 
12 


178  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

Foraker's  company  might  take  it  into  their  cussed 
heads  to  be  ugly,  and  then  thar's  no  tellin'  what  they 
mightn't  jest  natch'ally  do." 

He  turned  his  dull  eyes  toward  the  river,  and  de- 
voted some  moments  to  profound  meditation. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  it  wouldn't  be  a  right  smart  idea 
to  let  Colonel  Hunt  and  his  rangers  know  how  mat- 
ters stand,"  he  suggested.  He  glanced  inquiringly  at 
Jerrold.  That  gentleman  appeared  lost  in  thought. 
""Wai,  I  reckon  I'll  go  to  town  and  see  what's  the 
latest  developments,"  he  said,  finally.  "Hedn't  ye 
better  go 'long?" 

Mr.  Jerrold  reflected.  He  would  have  much  pre- 
ferred a  half-hour's  conversation  with  Cynthia,  but 
the  occasion  was  evidently  not  a  propitious  one.  Since 
the  delivery  of  his  unwelcome  intelligence,  he  had  seen 
nothing  of  her.  He  lounged  idly  about  the  door  a 
few  minutes,  in  the  hope  that  she  might  come  out. 
She  did  not  appear.  So  he  turned  reluctantly  to  ac- 
company Alcides. 

The  old  man  had  already  mounted  the  box-seat  of 
his  wagon,  and  taken  up  the  reins.  He  whipped  up 
smartly,  and,  with  a  loud  protest  from  axle  and  spring, 
the  crazy  conveyance  got  fairly  under  way.  Jerrold 
tarried  only  to  cast  one  regretful  glance  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Cynthia's  window  ;  then,  mounting  the  gray, 
he  dashed  after  him  down  the  road.  In  a  few  min- 
utes the  figures  of  both  men  were  lost  to  view  in  the 
shrubbery  that  bordered  the  river. 

The  house  grew  strangely  quiet  after  their  depart- 
ure. The  ebony  Amelia  had  departed  early  that  morn- 
ing for  a  day's  holiday  at  San  Marcus,  so  the  busy 
sounds  of  the  kitchen  were  hushed.  The  hens  and 


A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

chickens,  taking  advantage  of  her  absence,  strolled 
boldly  about  the  door-yard,  and  camped  out  and  for- 
aged among  the  pots  and  pans,  after  the  fashion  of 
neglected  poultry.  The  antelope  tugged  at  his  con- 
fining tether,  missing  the  attentions  of  his  mistress. 
"Aulus"  dozed,  and  caught  flies  on  the  door-step. 
A  general  air  of  reposeful  indifference  seemed  to  have 
settled  down  upon  the  Dallas  ranch  with  the  sun- 
beams that  slumbered  on  its  porch. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  door  opened 
suddenly,  and  Cynthia  came  out.  She  was  dressed  as 
for  a  journey.  She  wore  the  long  habit  familiar  to 
her  riding  excursions,  and,  as  she  stepped  from  the 
door-stone,  her  daintily  gathered  skirts  revealed  di- 
minutive riding-boots  and  silver  spurs.  Beyond  a 
slight  redness  of  the  eyelids,  there  was  no  trace  of  the 
agitation  of  a  few  hours  before,  but,  in  place  of  it,  a 
settled  resolve  shone  in  her  eyes,  and  spoke  in  her 
movements.  She  passed  quickly  across  the  door-yard, 
heedless  of  the  gambols  of  "  Aulus  "  and  the  bleats  of 
the  tethered  antelope.  Arriving  at  the  barn  in  the 
rear  of  the  ranch,  she  roused  herself  sufficiently  to 
shut  the  great  hound  in  a  neighboring  box-stall,  and 
hook  the  door  securely  ;  whereupon,  without  further 
delay,  she  led  her  pony  from  the  stable,  and  saddled 
and  bridled  him  as  fast  as  her  eager  fingers  could 
manipulate  buckle  and  strap.  She  accomplished  this 
task  with  a  deft  ease  to  which  habit  had  long  accus- 
tomed her.  With  equal  readiness  she  led  the  obedient 
mustang  to  an  adjacent  tree-stump,  where  she  effected 
successfully  the  somewhat  discommoding  achievement 
of  mounting.  Then,  with  a  sharp  cut  of  her  riding- 
whip,  she  started  "  Pepita  "  at  once  into  a  gallop,  and 


180  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

struck  out  over  the  prairie  with  a  directness  that 
showed  bar  fixedness  of  purpose. 

Her  mind  was  made  up  ;  she  had  decided  what  to 
do.  In  the  interval  since  she  had  learned  of  the  mis- 
fortune that  had  overtaken  Henry  Bruce,  she  had 
weighed  the  possible  dangers  of  his  position,  and  re- 
solved that  assistance  must  be  sent  him  at  all  hazards. 
The  forebodings  of  Alcides  were  scarcely  spoken  when 
they  awoke  the  courage  and  sympathy  of  her  resolute 
little  heart.  She  had  waited  only  to  see  if  her  father 
or  Jerrold  would  return  to  send  the  warning  the  for- 
mer had  suggested.  They  had  not  done  so.  Roused 
now  to  a  fever  of  excitement  at  the  delay,  she  had  de- 
termined to  be  the  bearer  of  the  tidings  herself. 

To  see  Colonel  Hunt,  who  was  a  friend  of  her 
father's,  and  well  known  to  Cynthia ;  to  acquaint  him 
with  the  circumstances  of  the  tragedy  of  the  early 
morning ;  to  champion  Bruce's  cause  to  the  utmost, 
and  so  work  upon  the  sympathies  of  the  ranger  cap- 
tain that  he  would  summon  his  men  and  go  at  once 
to  Bradford  Post — this  was  the  errand  the  courageous 
girl  had  undertaken. 

And  now,  as  she  set  out  upon  this  mad  ride  over 
valley  and  divide,  her  pulses  throbbed  with  anxiety 
and  her  heart  grew  faint,  fearing  some  possible  mis- 
chance that  might  cause  the  failure  of  her  plan.  What, 
if  the  colonel  should  be  absent !  What,  if  the  rangers 
had  moved  their  camp  from  the  locality  she  so  well 
knew,  and  had  so  often  visited  with  her  father  !  What, 
if  some  other  warning  had  called  these  adventurous 
men  away  from  their  headquarters,  and  she  should 
arrive  to  find  the  place  a  solitude,  and  herself  power- 
less to  aid  or  to  save  him  !  In  terror  at  the  thought, 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  181 

she  plied  without  pity  both  bit  and  spur.  The  pant- 
ing "Pepita"  fairly  flew!  Used  as  she  was  to  the 
saddle,  the  breathless  haste,  the  agony  of  that  terrible 
gallop  remained  always  an  event  in  Cynthia's  memory. 
She  heeded  not  the  familiar  landscape,  undulating 
ever  before  her  like  a  billowy  sea  ;  the  alarmed  cattle 
that  fled  in  a  panic  from  the  thunder  of  her  approach  ; 
the  occasional  bands  of  antelope  that  dashed  away, 
affrighted  ;  the  flocks  of  quail  and  summer  duck  that 
whirred  to  the  right  and  left,  as  she  dashed  through 
copse  and  underbrush,  or  came  suddenly  upon  some 
outlying  pool.  On,  on  she  sped,  while  the  trees  flew 
reeling  by,  and  the  ravens  croaked  an  ominous  presage 
from  the  wayside.  "Pepita"was  flagging  a  little. 
She  had  still  some  miles  to  go.  The  sun  was  sinking 
slowly  but  surely  to  the  horizon.  Yet,  taking  ever 
with  the  skill  of  the  frontier,  the  shortest  and  most 
direct  way  to  her  rendezvous,  plunging  through  chap- 
arral at  the  peril  of  life  and  limb,  her  garments  torn, 
her  pony  bleeding  from  the  thorny  thicket,  she  still 
held  her  course  to  the  westward,  and  galloped  on  with 
a  courage  that  in  man  would  have  been  heroic,  but  in 
woman  was  sublime  ! 

The  camp,  occupied  by  Colonel  Hunt  and  the 
rangers  he  commanded,  was  pitched  in  a  motte  of 
pecans  that  bordered  a  fertile  valley.  The  lofty  tree- 
tops  lifted  themselves — a  dark-green  barrier  against 
the  monotony  of  the  level  plain.  Within,  the  white 
tents  of  the  rangers  glimmered  in  the  shade,  saddles 
and  camp-utensils  were  scattered  about,  horses  stood 
tethered  here  and  there,  or  roamed  with  hoppled 
limbs  and  tinkling  stock-bell  through  the  grove  — 


182  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

everything  wore  the  air  of  a  picturesque  and  favor- 
able encampment. 

It  was  the  supper-hour,  and  camp-fires  were  be- 
ginning to  illuminate  the  shadows  of  the  aisles.  The 
glancing  light  flashed  upon  the  figures  of  the  men, 
busied  in  cooking,  or  lounging  in  groups  about  the 
doors  of  their  tents ;  upon  arms  and  accoutrements, 
stacked  and  piled  against  various  trees.  The  fires 
roared  and  crackled ;  the  steam  of  the  broiling  mor- 
sels filled  the  air  ;  -and  in  the  background,  where  a 
somewhat  larger  and  more  comfortable  tent  stood  by 
the  side  of  a  quiet  pool,  the  rising  globe  of  the  silver 
moon  swung  silently  over  the  forest  picture. 

The  waters  were  already  beginning  to  shimmer 
and  dance  with  its  reflected  rays,  when  the  flap  of 
this  tent  was  pushed  aside,  and  a  man  strode  out  of 
the  opening.  As  he  did  so  the  light  of  a  camp-fire 
opposite  flashed  full  upon  him,  and  revealed  the  feat- 
ures of  Colonel  William  Hunt. 

It  was  a  characteristic  face.  One  understood,  at  a 
glance,  why  it  was  that  this  man  had  been  chosen  to 
lead  the  disciplined  band  that  followed  him. "  The 
locks  that  he  bared  to  the  evening  air  were  a  trifle 
grizzled  with  age.  Hardship  and  privation  had  set 
their  seal  upon  the  face,  but  only  to  intensify  its  look 
of  determination  and  daring.  Decision  and  will  domi- 
nated the  strong  lines  of  mouth  and  jaw.  It  was 
apparent  at  once  that,  whatever  courage  could  under- 
take or  energy  achieve,  yielded  before  the  marked 
personality  of  the  man. 

Something  of  this  was  apparent  in  the  glances  cast 
upon  him  by  his  men,  as  he  strode  in  among  them 
and  sauntered  away  through  the  trees.  Their  manner 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  183 

betokened  a  respect  that  the  intimacy  and  familiarity 
of  their  camp-life  could  not  dispel. 

Colonel  Hunt  did  not  stop  until  he  reached  a  large 
tree  that  stood  like  a  giant  picket  upon  the  very  con- 
fines of  the  grove.  He  leaned  his  back  against  it  and 
stood  looking  out  upon  the  shadowy  plain  which  the 
moonlight  was  beginning  to  illumine.  Hardly  had 
he  done  so,  when  the  rhythmic  hoof-beats  of  a  horse, 
coming  toward  him  at  full  gallop,  struck  his  ear.  He 
stood  erect  and  listened.  A  breeze  had  sprung  up, 
and,  as  its  light  breath  fanned  his  furrowed  cheek,  he 
could  even  distinguish  the  panting  breath  of  the  ani- 
mal, as  if  driven  hard  or  furiously  ridden.  Surprised 
that  any  one  should  be  approaching  the  camp  at  such 
a  rate  of  speed,  he  stepped  out  into  the  open.  In  an 
instant  he  was  almost  run  doAvn  by  Cynthia,  mounted 
upon  the  foam-covered  "  Pepita." 

The  apparition  of  her  mounted  presence  came 
upon  Hunt  so  suddenly,  that  he  cried  out,  "  Halt ! " 
with  the  sternness  of  one  used  to  command.  The 
horse  was  checked  instantly,  but  with  a  reckless- 
ness that  almost  threw  the  exhausted  animal  upon 
its  haunches. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  demanded  the  colonel,  striding  up. 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  no  reply.  Then  a 
voice  in  the  gloom  panted,  "  Cynthia  !"  and  immedi- 
ately after,  the  girl  slipped  lightly  to  the  ground,  and 
stood  leaning  exhaustedly  against  the  saddle. 

She  was  so  breathless  and  spent  with  the  fatigue 
of  her  long  ride  that,  at  first,  she  could  only  indi- 
cate the  urgency  of  her  errand  by  broken  sentences. 
Meanwhile  the  colonel,  roused  by  the  eloquence  of 
her  pale  face  and  disheveled  tresses,  was  moved  to 


184  -A-  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

sympathy.  When,  at  last,  with  many  pauses  for 
breath,  but  with  an  earnestness  that  betrayed  her 
anxiety,  she  had  made  her  purpose  known,  the  ran- 
ger's response  was  kindly  and  reassuring. 

"Ye're  a  brave  little  girl,"  he  said,  "and  a  man 
oughter  feel  proud  that  one  o'  your  style  takes  the 
trouble  to  show  an  interest  in  him.  Well,  Miss  Cyn- 
thia, come  up  to  the  camp  and  we'll  see  what  can  be 
done.  It's  a  full  moon  to-night,  and  only  a  few 
hours'  hard  riding  from  here  to  the  Post.  Perhaps 
it'd  be  jest  as  well  if  I  took  the  boys  over  for  a  little 
pasear.  They  won't  mind  it  much,  and,  even  if  noth- 
ing comes  of  it,  it  will  set  your  fears  at  rest  at  any 
rate.  Ef  thar's  a  man  in  my  company  that  isn't  will- 
in'  to  make  this  trip,  when  he  hears  of  the  ride 
you've  taken  to  save  Henry  Bruce,  he's  not  fit  to  serve 
under  Colonel  Hunt,  I'll  be  bound  !  You've  struck 
us  at  the  right  time,  too,  young  lady.  Supper  is 
waiting  —  such  as  it  is  !  As  soon  as  that  is  over, 
we'll  saddle  up  and  start.  Ez  for  yourself,  I  can  send 
you  back  by  the  night-coach  thet  passes  Thompson's 
Kanch  about  an  hour  from  now,  I  reckon." 

But  here  he  paused,  at  a  gesture  of  dissent  from 
Cynthia,  who  had  taken  the  bridle  of  "Pepita"  and 
was  already  leading  her  into  the  grove. 

"  Send  me  back  by  the  night-coach  ! "  she  re- 
peated, glancing  at  him  and  knitting  her  brows. 
"Thank  you,  sir,  I'm  not  to  be  disposed  of  so  easily. 
I  have  friends  at  the  Post,  and  reckon  they'll  be  will- 
ing to  take  care  of-  me  to-night.  At  any  rate,  I'll 
ask  'em.  If  you  can  give  me  a  fresh  horse,  and  it's 
all  the  same  to  you,  Colonel  Hunt,  I  reckon  I'll  ride 
along,  too." 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  185 

The  tall  ranger  captain  looked  down  at  the  resolu- 
tion of  the  pale  face  lifted  to  his  in  the  moonlight. 
The  admiration  that  he  felt  for  this  Amazonian  ut- 
terance shone  in  his  face  and  glistened  in  his  eyes. 
But  the  colonel's  speech,  like  that  of  many  decisive 
natures,  was  homely,  and  the  tenor  of  his  thought 
was  not  borne  out  by  his  words.  He  stared  blankly 
at  the  surrounding  trees,  as  if  for  confirmation  of  his 
own  surprise.  Apparently  having  received  the  assur- 
ance he  desired,  he  shook  his  head  and  remarked, 
emphatically,  "  Well,  Pll  le  Uowed  !" 

With  this  characteristic  utterance  he  quietly  re- 
entered  the  grove. 


xin. 

THE  full  moon  in  meridian  splendor  shone  calmly 
down  at  Bradford  Post.  The  little  plateau  on  which 
the  frontier  fort  was  placed  stood  out  above  the  out- 
lying country  with  all  the  distinctness  of  day.  Seen 
from  that  elevated  point,  the  waters  of  the  Big  and 
Little  Fury  glittered  to  their  confluence  at  the  base 
of  the  height ;  the  bridge  at  the  crossing  shone  black 
among  the  trees ;  and  even  the  distant  roofs  of  the 
town  of  Joaquin  were  clearly  visible.  The  moonlight 
flooded  everything  within  the  Post  itself,  steeping 
the  three  sides  of  the  level  square,  illuminating  the 
low  barracks  of  the  soldiers  and  the  adobe  dwellings 
of  the  officers  opposite,  and  slipping  ghost-like  from 
the  white  flag-staff,  which  seemed  to  stretch  a  spectral 
finger  to  the  stars.  It  wanted  yet  two  hours  of  mid- 
night, but  the  lights  were  out  which,  earlier  in  the 
evening,  had  flickered  in  the  various  quarters.  So 
gracious  was  the  night,  it  seemed  to  breathe  a  beni- 
son  upon  the  slumbers  of  the  quiet  garrison. 

Yet  there  was  commotion  at  Bradford  Post — not 
within  the  confines  of  the  fort  itself,  nor  in  the  moon- 
lit spaces  of  the  level  square,  but  far  in  the  rear  of 
the  soldiers'  barracks,  where  a  small,  low  stone  build- 
ing stood  with  barred  door  and  grated  windows.  A 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  187 

crowd  of  fifty  or  sixty  men  were  collected  about  this 
structure,  conversing  in  low  tones  and  excitedly  run- 
ning from  window  to  window.  As  they  moved  to 
and  fro,  the  rays  of  the  moon  flashed  upon  muskets 
and  accoutrements.  They  were  the  soldiers  of  For- 
aker's  company,  ripe  for  insurrection  over  the  death 
of  their  chief ;  and  the  building  about  which  they 
were  gathered  was  the  military  jail  of  Bradford 
Post. 

Trouble  had  been  brewing  since  early  morning. 
With  the  arrival  of  Sheriff  Mosely  and  his  prisoners, 
the  news  of  the  tragedy  at  San  Marcus  had  spread 
like  wild-fire  through  the  camp.  Foraker  s  men  re- 
ceived the  intelligence  sullenly,  but  with  evident  sus- 
picion of  foul  play.  The  dead  captain  had  been  popu- 
lar with  his  company,  which  included  the  most  reck- 
less and  desperate  of  the  soldiers  at  the  fort.  There 
were  among  them  certain  dissipated  spirits  who  cher- 
ished a  lively  admiration  for  the  hardihood  and  noto- 
rious reputation  of  their  leader.  Considerable  curi- 
osity had  been  expressed  in  regard  to  the  man  who 
had  seen  fit  to  abbreviate  so  enviable  a  career.  There 
had  been  trips  to  the  jail  in  consequence,  and  through- 
out the  day  a  crowd  of  eager  faces  had  beset  the  win- 
dows. In  consequence  of  the  absence  of  the  presid- 
ing justice,  the  time  for  a  hearing  in  the  case  had  been 
set  down  for  the  following  day.  In  the  present  state 
of  popular  feeling,  Sheriff  Mosely  had  thought  best  to 
confine  the  body  of  Bruce  during  the  interval.  He 
had  been  obliged,  therefore,  to  incarcerate  him  in  the 
single  room  of  the  jail  in  company  with  Lemuel  Wick- 
son.  Through  the  heavily  barred  windows  the  forms 
of  the  men  could  be  dimly  seen  and  even  conversa- 


188  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

tion   interchanged    through    an    occasional     broken 
pane. 

The  soldiers  had  been  in  doubt,  at  first,  as  to  which 
of  the  two  was  responsible  for  the  death  of  the  cap- 
tain. .Some  vigorous  personal  criticism  and  animated 
invective,  delivered  through  the  windows,  elicited  the 
information  required.  Bruce  had  kept  his  own  coun- 
sel, while  Mr.  Lemuel  Wickson  had  replied  cheerfully 
to  this  genial  badinage.  Being  free  to  move  about, 
he  gratified  his  resentment  against  Bruce  for  his  capt- 
ure, by  going  to  the  window  and  giving  whispered 
and  startling  accounts  of  the  killing  of  Foraker.  It 
appeared  from  these  vivid  word-pictures  that  the  ex- 
horse-thief  had  been  an  eye-witness  to  the  tragedy. 
His  imagination  was  entirely  responsible  for  his  facts. 
Yet  so  cleverly  did  he  work  upon  the  excited  sympa- 
thies of  the  indignant  company,  that  by  nightfall  it 
was  generally  believed  that  Foraker  had  been  butch- 
ered in  cold  blood  while  drunk  and  asleep.  It  was 
doubtful  whether  during  the  interval  Mr.  "Wickson, 
by  the  invention  of  local  color  and  realistic  detail, 
had  not  persuaded  himself  of  the  truth  of  his  state- 
ments. Sheriff  Mosely  and  one  deputy  mounted 
guard  during  the  day,  and  interposed  a  spirited  but 
ineffectual  denial  to  this  version  of  the  affair.  Some 
local  disturbance  in  the  town  of  Joaquin  had  unfor- 
tunately necessitated  the  absence  of  Jake  Sharp. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  awaj7,  the  feeling  of  ani- 
mosity against  Bruce  grew  more  expressive  and  vio- 
lent. The  crowd  of  loungers  about  the  jail  increased. 
Personal  abuse  of  the  prisoner  was  indulged  in  at  the 
windows,  and  even  threats  of  violence  were  openly 
heard.  Some  of  the  boldest  went  so  far  as  to  counsel 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  189 

Wickson  to  kill  Bruce,  declaring,  with  a  mob's  ready 
acceptance  of  responsibility,  that  they  would  "stand 
by  him." 

Mr.  Wickson  had  expressed,  in  words,  a  cordial 
willingness  to  comply  with  these  requests,  but  when 
it  came  to  deeds,  had  shown  a  singular  reluctance. 
He  alleged  as  the  reason  for  this  delay  the  fact  that 
he  had  no  weapon  ;  but,  as  Bruce  himself  was  un- 
armed, this  statement  was  hardly  pertinent.  How 
far  he  was  influenced  by  a  certain  cold  glitter  in  the 
latter's  eye  did  not  transpire.  The  fact  remains  that 
he  listened  quietly  to  the  urgent  but  impracticable 
advice  of  the  soldiers  to  "cut  the  tenderfoot's  heart 
out,"  to  "throw  the  stove  on  him,"  and  other  uncon- 
sidered  suggestions  that  were  rained  upon  him  all  the 
afternoon.  But  at  nightfall  Mr.  "Wickson  was  still 
conspicuously  doing  nothing. 

Then  came  a  lull ;  the  men  dispersed  for  supper. 
Sheriff  Mosely  availed  himself  of  the  interval  to  send 
a  message  of  the  state  of  things  to  the  colonel  at  the 
fort,  a  message  which  that  worthy  unaccountably  saw 
fit  to  disregard. 

After  this  he  loaded  his  extra  pistols,  and  with- 
drew with  "Humly  Jim"  to  the  little  guard-room 
behind  the  outer  door.  Here  he  had  recourse  to 
his  pocket-flask  and  philosophically  awaited  develop- 
ments. 

"I  allow,"  he  said,  quietly,  to  his  only  remain- 
ing deputy,  after  participating  with  him  in  this  re- 
freshment, "thet  we  don't  get  through  this  night's 
bizness,  natch'ally,  without  suthin'  of  a  row ;  but 
whatever  happens,  Jim,  Ike  Mosely  don't  reckon  on 
bein'  either  euchred  or  bluffed.  I  don't  propose  to 


190  A  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

let  Lem,  thar,  git  out,  and  they  can't  have  Henry 
Bruce  except  over  my  dead  body.  Savey  thet?" 

The  deputy  did. 

"Now,  what  I  expect  of  you,  Jim,"  continued 
Ike,  "is  what  I  allers  get — cVar  grit  and  nothin' 
else." 

He  leaned  forward  and  gripped  his  ill  -  favored 
comrade's  hand  as  he  said  this.  The  two  men  ex- 
changed glances. 

"Ef  they  start  to  break  in  here  to-night,  I'll  draw 
them  fastenings,"  pointing  to  the  iron  door  that  led 
into  the  room  where  the  prisoners  were  confined, 
"and  call  on  Henry  Bruce.  We  two  '11  keep  this 
place  against  all  coiners  or  die  together,  you  can  take 
my  word  for  thet !  Your  bizness  '11  be  to  go  in  thar 
and  hold  thet  tarrier,  Wickson,  and  prevent  his  git- 
tin'  out.  Ef  he  makes  a  break  or  acts  anyway  ob- 
strep'rous,  shoot  him  jest  the  same  ez  ye  would  a 
jack-rabbit.  Thar  ain't  no  other  way  with  sich  cat- 
tle. He's  more'n  half  responsible  for  the  trouble 
we're  goin'  to  git  to-night,  and  I  only  wish  my  'six- 
shooter'  hed  sorter  gone  off  by  accident  on  the  way 
up  here.  It  would  have  saved  my  conscience  consid- 
er'ble  wear  and  tear.  Ez  it  is  now,  I'm  about  eat  up 
with  remorse." 

As  the  shadows  of  evening  drew  around  the  jail, 
the  sheriff's  forebodings  seemed  at  first  without  foun- 
dation. With  the  beating  of  "taps,"  lights  vanished 
at  the  fort,  the  sounds  of  frontier  discipline  were 
hushed,  and  the  camp  apparently  sank  to  repose.  De- 
ceived by  this  absence  of  hostilities,  the  solitary  depu- 
ty dozed  on  a  bench  of  the  low  corridor.  Only  Ike 
Mosely  remained  alert  and  vigilant. 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  191 

The  moonbeams,  stealing  through  the  barred  grat- 
ing of  the  roof,  were  falling  almost  vertically  upon 
the  stone  pavement  at  his  feet,  when  his  quick  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  voices.  Drawing  a  narrow  slide 
in  the  outer  door,  he  peered  through  its  semicircular 
guard.  A  crowd  of  men  were  collected  in  front  of  the 
jail.  They  were  conversing  together  in  low  tones.  In 
the  light  of  the  moon  the  sheriff  recognized  several  of 
the  most  desperate  of  Foraker's  men.  One  burly  fel- 
low held  in  his  hand  a  coil  of  rope.  Closing  the  slide 
cautiously,  he  roused  his  companion  and  examined 
his  pistols.  A  second  later,  the  jail-door  vibrated 
with  a  blow  struck  upon  it  by  some  heavy  object  from 
without. 

"Who's  there  ?"  demanded  Mosely,  at  the  slide. 

"  Come,  come,  Ike  Mosely,"  replied  a  loud  voice, 
which  the  sheriff  instantly  recognized  as  the  sergeant 
of  Foraker's  men  ;  "  this  ain't  no  game  of  bluff. 
We're  here  for  bizness,  and  we  want  you  to  open  up." 

"  P'raps  you'll  state  your  reasons  for  gittin'  in, 
before  I  give  ye  the  privilege,"  responded  Mosely. 

"  Wai,  yes,  we  don't  mind,  seein'  we're  comin'  in, 
whether  you're  willin'  or  not,"  responded  the  voice. 
"We're  goin'  to  hang  that  damned  tenderfoot,  you've 
got  in  there,  to  the  highest  tree  in  the  Post.  That's 
what  we're  going  to  do  !  So  we  tell  you  to  open  up  ! " 

"  Oh,  ye  are?"  said  Ike,  tauntingly.  "  Mebbe 
you  reckon  that  I'll  set  quietly  by  and  see  you  do  all 
thet  ?  Now,  I'm  givin'  it  to  you  straight,  what  you 
kin  expect  ef  you  try  on  anything  of  the  kind.  Thar's 
two  of  us,  here,  and  we'll  kill  every  mother's  son  of  ye 
thet  gets  in,  ez  sure  ez  there's  a  living  God ! " 

A  blow  from  the  outside  was  the  only  response. 


192  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  Thet's  right  ! "  shouted  Ike,  as  a  second  blow 
caused  the  door  to  spring  on  its  hinges.  "  The  sooner 
ye  make  a  hole  through  thet  partition,  the  more  likely 
I  am  to  reach  ye  ! " 

He  emphasized  the  remark  by  drawing  the  slide 
and  discharging  his  revolver  through  the  aperture.  A 
yell,  and  a  sudden  shuffling  of  feet  without  greeted 
the  shot. 

For  a  time  all  was  quiet.  Mosely  drew  the  slide 
again,  and  reconnoitred.  The  result  was  apparently 
not  satisfactory.  He  snapped  the  catch  back  sud- 
denly, and  turned  sharply  upon  "  Humly  Jim." 

"  It's  jest  ez  I  reckoned,"  he  said,  quietly ;  "  they're 
comin'  back  agin,  and,  this  time,  they've  got  a  timber 
with  'em,  and  thet  door  is  goin'  in.  I  reckon  it's  high 
time  for  us  to  make  a  division  of  forces." 

He  drew  the  bolts  on  the  inner  door,  as  he  spoke. 

"  Call  him,"  he  whispered. 

''Humly  Jim"  complied.  A  second  later  Bruce 
stepped  through  the  opening.  The  deputy  grasped 
his  revolvers,  and  disappeared  within.  Ike  Mosely 
turned  and  faced  the  ranchman  in  the  moonlight. 

"Pardner,"  he  said,  placing  his  hands  upon  his 
shoulders,  and  gazing  into  his  eyes,  "ye  don't  need 
me  to  tell  ye,  thet  this'll  be  a  close  call  for  you  and 
me,  and  mebbe  one  or  both  of  us  is  goin'  home.  But, 
by  the  living  God  !  I'm  here  to  tell  ye,  thet  thar's  no 
man  I'd  rather  fight  for,  or  die  alongside  !" 

He  pressed  a  pair  of  "  six-shooters"  into  his  com- 
panion's hands,  as  he  spoke. 

"  Now  then,"  he  said,  setting  his  square  shoulder 
against  the  shoulder  of  Bruce,  and  cocking  his  pistols, 
"let  'em  come  on,  damn  'em  !  They'll  find  they've 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  193 

got  more  than  they  bargained  for,  or  else  I've  forgot- 
ten how  to  shoot !" 

A  rush  from  without  drowned  his  words,  as  a  blow, 
delivered  with  the  force  of  a  battering-ram,  caused 
the  door  to  leap  inward.  A  shower  of  dust  and  plas- 
tering fell  to  the  floor.  A  second  rush  and  shock  fol- 
lowed. The  door  fell  from  its  hinges  with  a  crash, 
and  the  moon  shone  boldly  in  and  streamed  upon  the 
stone  pavement.  Bruce  and  Mosely  retreated  into 
the  shadows  of  the  doorway.  Here,  unseen  by  those 
without,  they  covered  the  entrance  with  their  cocked 
revolvers.  The  moonlight  flashed  coldly  on  the  glis- 
tening barrels,  full  in  the  sight  of  an  excited  crowd  of 
men  poising  a  heavy  beam. 

A  moment's  pause  ensued.  The  soldiers,  thinking 
that  the  weapons  were  those  of  the  sheriff  and  his 
deputy,  and  that  Bruce  was  in  the  interior  of  the  jail, 
were  averse  to  unnecessary  bloodshed.  At  this  instant 
there  was  a  crash  of  musketry  in  the  rear,  accom- 
panied by  the  jingling  of  glass  and  the  whistling  of 
bullets.  The  leader  of  the  party  held  up  his  hand  to 
parley. 

"  I  reckon  you  hear  that,  Ike  Mosely,"  he  said, 
with  an  oath.  "The  boys  are  rakin'  your  lock-up 
from  the  windows.  You  might  ez  well  hand  that  fel- 
ler over  quiej;  and  peaceable,  before  they  take  him  out 
a  corpse.  We've  sworn  to  string  him  up,  and,  ez 
we're  ten  to  your  one,  ye  might  as  well  be  sensible  and 
give  in." 

"You  think  so,  do  you?"  retorted  the  sheriff, 

through  his  set  teeth.     "  I'll  let  you  know  /  think 

different !    I'll  allow  thet  me  and  Jim  can't  hold  but 

one  end  of  this  jail,  but  thet's  about  what  we  calcu- 

13 


194  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

late  to  do.  Of  course,  ef  you  kill  him  in  the  mean 
time,  I  ain't  responsible,  but  the  first  man  of  you  thet 
steps  across  thet  door-sill  is  gone  in — I  give  you  thet 
flat  ! " 

The  sheriff  had  hardly  spoken,  when  the  door  of 
the  inner  room  swung  quickly  back,  and  "Humly 
Jim  "  appeared.  He  was  not  visible  to  the  throng 
without.  Closing  the  door  behind  him,  he  leaned 
against  it.  His  voice  came  distinctly  to  the  ears  of 
Mosely  and  Bruce. 

"  Thar  ain't  no  use  for  me  to  put  in  any  more 
time  in  thar,"  he  said,  slowly.  "  Thar  ain't  no  pris- 
oner to  guard.  Leastwise,  none  thet's  likely  to  git 
away.  Thet  last  volley  settled  Lena's  account  for 
good  and  all,  I  reckon.  The  durned  idgits  killed  the 
wrong  man  !  P'raps,  thet  bein'  the  case,  you've  got 
more  use  for  me  here  in  front. " 

Mosely  was  about  to  whisper  some  hurried  com- 
mand to  his  deputy,  when  a  second  volley  crashed 
through  the  inner  room,  splintering  the  wood-work 
and  beams.  The  sounds  of  this  terrific  fusillade  had 
not  entirely  ceased,  before  a  sudden  noise,  borne  on 
the  night  wind,  came  to  their  ears  from  without.  A 
loud  rumble,  as  of  distant  thunder,  shook  the  earth, 
and  the  windows  of  the  jail  rattled  with  a  strong  vi- 
bratory tremor.  The  crowd  about  the  shattered  door 
turned  in  surprise.  A  clear,  ringing  cheer  burst  sud- 
denly upon  the  still  night.  There  were  the  sound  of 
galloping  hoofs  and  the  murmur  of  many  voices,  and 
with  a  sudden  rush  and  tumult  a  mounted  cavalcade 
swept  round  the  jail,  the  moonlight  flashing  upon 
their  brandished  rifles.  In  an  instant  the  building 
was  surrounded. 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  195 

The  leader  of  the  party  charged  the  group  of  sol- 
diers before  the  doorway  at  a  gallop,  reining  up  his 
horse  so  fiercely  that  the  hoofs  of  the  animal  struck 
fire  in  the  resisting  gravel. 

"Fall  back!"  shouted  the  imperative  voice  of 
Colonel  Hunt.  "  Clear  out,  now,  all  of  you,  and  dis- 
perse !  This  business  has  gone  far  enough." 

At  the  sharp  command,  Foraker's  men,  realizing 
they  were  now  between  two  fires,  scattered  in  all  di- 
rections. The  soldiers  in  the  rear  of  the  jail  were  as 
quickly  routed.  Hardly  three  minutes  elapsed  before 
the  horseman  threw  himself  from  the  saddle,  and,  strid- 
ing over  the  fallen  door,  entered  the  corridor. 

"  Just  in  time,  Ike,  to  put  a  stop  to  this  yer  fool- 
ishness," he  remarked,  grasping  the  sheriff  by  the 
hand. 

"  Not  much  too  late,  Bill,  thet's  a  fact,"  replied 
Mosely,  returning  the  greeting.  "  'Pon  my  word, 
colonel,  I  rather  looked  for  somethin'  of  a  scrimmage, 
but  this  sudden  freak  o'  yours  for  a  moonlight  pasear 
sorter  took  the  sand  out  o'  them  sojers,  natch'ally, 
didn't  it  ?  What  angel  sent  you  down  our  way  at  this 
hour  of  the  night?" 

Colonel  William  Hunt  removed  his  hat,  and  the 
moonlight  shone  full  upon  his  serious  face. 

"You've  struck  it,  Mosely!"  he  said,  solemnly. 
"An  out-and-out  angel — and  no  mistake  !  I  ain't  no 
call  to  take  to  myself  any  credit  for  this  yer  night's 
business.  It  all  belongs  to  a  woman — a  little  gal  ez 
galloped  ten  miles  to  bring  me  word,  and.  notwith- 
standing, hez  rid  with  us  every  step  of  the  way,  and 
put  the  blush  to  every  man  in  my  troop — a  gal  ez 
I'd  bank  on  ag'in  half  the  men  I  ever  see,  and  who's 


196  A  XYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

too  good  a  durned  sight  for  the  best  man  in  the 
State!" 

And,  even  at  this  moment,  pale,  breathless,  and 
disheveled,  Cynthia  Dallas  staggered  trembling  to  the 
doorway,  and  sank  fainting  on  the  threshold. 


XIV. 

WITH  the  arrival  of  the  rangers  and  their  armed 
investment  of  the  jail  at  Bradford  Post,  the  open 
animosity  against  Henry  Bruce  vanished.  Such  was 
the  awe  inspired  by  these  frontier  police,  that  no  fur- 
ther attempt  at  outbreak  followed.  At  nine  o'clock 
of  the  following  day,  a  mounted  escort  accompanied 
Bruce  to  the  court-house,  and  a  preliminary  examina- 
tion was  held.  Phil  Kernochan  had  arrived  during 
the  night,  bringing  with  him  Judge  Natchez,  the 
ablest  lawyer  of  the  circuit.  The  prisoner  found 
himself  surrounded  by  influential  counsel  and  friends. 

The  presiding  justice  conducted  the  proceedings 
with  that  perfect  impartiality  and  absence  of  judicial 
dignity  for  which  he  was  noted.  With  his  hat  on 
the  back  of  his  head,  a  short,  black  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
and  untrammeled  by  coat,  cravat,  or  collar,  he  lent 
himself  seriously  to  the  gravity  of  the  occasion.  A. 
proposal,  on  the  part  of  the  prosecuting  attorney,  to 
adjourn  court  until  they  had  shared  the  hospitality 
of  the  neighboring- saloon,  was  frowned  upon  severely 
by  this  Texan  Rhadamanthus.  The  district  attorney 
was  a  bosom  friend  of  Foraker,  and  hostile  to  Bruce. 

How  far  the  judicial  mind  may  have  been  influ- 
enced by  this  significant  fact,  by  the  sullen  presence 


198  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

of  the  more  disaffected  of  Foraker's  men  in  the  court- 
room, and  by  the  armed  demonstration  of  the  night 
before,  it  is  impossible  to  determine.  Judge  Pember- 
ton  smoked,  alike  impassively,  through  the  eloquent 
argument  of  the  prisoner's  counsel  and  the  fiery  ap- 
peal of  the  State's  representative.  But,  on  motion 
of  Judge  Natchez  to  release  Bruce  on  bail,  he  cheer- 
fully acquiesced.  He  further  agreed  to  the  applica- 
tion for  a  change  of  venue,  holding  that  the  present 
state  of  popular  feeling  was  hardly  conducive  to  that 
calmness  of  deliberation  which  the  law  prescribes. 

His  Honor's  phraseology  is  necessarily  lost  in  the 
above  paraphrase.  He  said,  I  believe,  that  he  "  wasn't 
tryin'  no  case,  in  no  place,  where  everybody  was  dead 
sot  on  hangiu'  the  prisoner  first,  and  holdin'  court 
arterwards."  But,  doubtless,  the  legal  principle  of 
abstract  justice  was  implied  in  this  Lone  Star  dictum. 
The  trial  was  set  down  for  the  first  week  in  Septem- 
ber, at  the  neighboring  county-seat  of  Oskaloo. 

Sheriff  Mosely  was  overjoyed  at  this  decision. 

"  Why,  thet's  right  whar  I  was  born  and  brought 
up,"  he  said  to  Bruce,  slapping  him  on  the  back 
as  they  left  the  court -room.  "I  own  thet  place. 
Yer  hand,  pardner  ;  I  congratulate  you  on  yer  luck. 
When  the  time  comes  round,  I'll  run  down  thar  and 
see  ef  I  can't  scare  up  a  reasonable,  fa'r-minded,  and 
oupreju diced  jury,  ez'll  view  this  business  in  a  true 
and  holy  light." 

The  confidence  of  Bruce  in  his  eventual  acquittal, 
united  to  his  own  conviction  of  the  justice  of  his 
cause,  was  naturally  increased  by  this  reassuring  state- 
ment. 

None  the  less  did  Phil  Kernochan  relax  his  exer- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  199 

• 

tions  in  his  partner's  behalf.  He  consulted  earnestly 
with  Colonel  Hunt,  who,  with  a  party  of  his  men, 
conducted  them  back  to  the  "  Mesquite  Valley  Eanch. " 
Judge  Natchez — a  man  of  wide  experience  in  Texan 
practice  and  pleading — outlined  several  modes  of  ac- 
tion, but  was  inclined  to  lay  considerable  stress  upon 
Sheriff  Mosely's  co-operation,  and  suggested  that  Mr. 
Buck  Jerrold  be  approached  as  a  possible  valuable  ally. 
Accordingly,  a  few  days  later,  Kernochan  rode  over 
to  the  latter's  ranch  and  held  a  conference  with  that 
gentleman. 

Mr.  Jerrold  had  been  already  importuned  in  be- 
half of  Henry  Bruce.  He  had  paid  a  visit  to  the 
Dallas  Eanch,  the  previous  evening,  and  had  heard 
from  Cynthia's  own  lips  an  account  of  the  storming 
of  the  jail  at  Bradford  Post,  and  the  rescue  that  fol- 
lowed. So  pathetically  had  Cynthia  wrought  upon 
the  sympathies  of  her  auditor,  that  Jerrold  had  been 
unable  to  resist  the  appeal.  It  was,  perhaps,  proof 
positive  of  the  cow-man's  love  for  Miss  Dallas  and  his 
own  generosity  of  soul,  that  he  promised  his  assist- 
ance, although  in  giving  it  he  was  aware  that  he  stood 
in  his  own  light. 

He  received  Kernochan  with  that  gravity  of  de- 
meanor for  which  he  was  noted,  tempered,  possibly, 
with  a  certain  resignation  which,  under  the  circum- 
stances, increased  the  latter's  good  opinion.  Ker- 
nochan unfolded  his  errand  in  a  few  words.  Buck 
Jerrold  filled  his  pipe,  lighted  it,  and,  seating  himself 
on  a  nail-keg  in  the  door-yard,  reviewed  the  situation 
solemnly  as  follows  : 

"  Thar  ain't  but  one  argyment  to  bring  to  bear  on 
the  town  of  Oskaloo,"  he  said,  deliberately,  crossing 


200  -A-  NYMPH   OF  THE  WEST. 

• 

his  legs — "and  thet's  whisky  !  I've  been  down  thar, 
off  and  on,  for  the  last  ten  years,  and  I  never  knew 
anythin'  else  to  carry  conviction  in  thet  thrivin'  set- 
tlement— onless  it  was  a  'six-shooter,'  and  even  then, 
I  reckon,  whisky  'd  stand  the  best  show.  Ye  see," 
he  said,  pulling  at  the  straps  of  his  heavy  boots,  and 
glancing  at  them,  as  if  for  inspiration,  "  the  poppy  la- 
tion  is  thet  rigid  and  narrer-minded,  that  it  needs 
suthin'  of  thet  nature  to  get  the  milk  o'  human  kind- 
ness to  flow.  They  want  suthin'  to  start  'em!  I've 
seen  'free  whisky  in  the  back  room,'  at  Oskaloo,  do 
more  for  bizness  on  a  cash  basis,  than  low  prices  and 
onlimited  credit.  It's  the  same  way  with  lawin'.  I 
ain't  no  drinkin'  man,  Mr.  Kernochan,  ez  you  know  ; 
I  don't  drink,  because — because — "  said  Mr.  Jerrold, 
reflectively,  raising  his  eyes  to  Kernochan  and  delib- 
erately closing  one  quietly — "  because  I  don't.  But  I 
recognizes  the  value  of  licker  in  makin'  an  idee  popu- 
lar, and,  so  to  speak,  creatin'  a  majority.  Ef  I  could 
go  down  thar,  now,  in  the  interests  of  justice,  and  jest 
float  the  town ;  jest  play  the  millionaire  and  do  the 
generous  thing — it  might  cost  you  suthin' — but  I 
reckon — I  reckon — "  said  Mr.  Jerrold,  cautiously — 
"  we  might  get  an  honorable  and  squar  deal,  even  in 
thet  benighted  settlement. 

"It's  ag'in  the  natur  o'  things,"  continued  Mr. 
Jerrold,  "  to  look  for  favorable  results  on  any  other 
ground.  Them  fellers  down  thet  way,  I  reckon,  are 
what  Parson  Centrefitt  calls  * pestimists''  —  they're 
malarial  in  their  tastes,  and  they'd  get  things  crooked 
on  gen'ral  principles.  Accordin'  to  their  view,  every- 
thing is  cross-grained  from  the  start.  They  jest 
natch 'ally  look  at  things  on  the  bias — so  to  speak. 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  201 

They'd  allow,  for  instance,  thet  Henry  Bruce  laved 
all  night  for  Foraker,  out  on  the  San  Marcus  road  ; 
thet  he  rounded  him  up,  and  started  him  on  the  'long 
trail,'  because  he  was  stampedin'  his  plans  and  pros- 
pects. Thet's  what  they'd  ha'  done,  and  thet's  the 
way  they'd  look  at  it.  You  and  me  knows  different — 
thet  it  was  done  in  self-defense.  But  it'll  need  ju- 
dicious maniperJatin'  to  make  'em  thet  liberal-minded, 
and  to  git  'em  at  all  charitably  disposed.  They  must 
be  elevated  to  thet  p'iut.  Then  ye'll  git  justice.  Their 
moral  natur  sorter  leaves  off  where  the  rest  of  us  begin." 

He  paused,  and  looked  seriously  at  Kernochan  to 
note  the  effect  of  his  words.  Evidently  gathering 
that,  from  his  visitor's  previous  opinion  of  the  town 
of  Oskaloo,  his  logic  was  beginning  to  tell  on  him, 
he  summed  up  his  position  in  a  few  words  : 

"Ef  I  rec'lect,  I  was  a  leetle  onsettled  myself, 
thet  night,  in  San  Marcus,  and  I  ain't  no  way  sartin 
thet  Henry  Bruce  didn't  take  a  gratifyin'  contract  off 
my  hands.  You  go  to  work,  Mr.  Kernochan,  and 
engage  the  best  lawyers  and  argifyers  the  State  can 
produce.  Them'll  be  necessary,  ez  the  prosecuting 
attorney  is  dead  ag'in  ye  from  the  fust.  But,  ez  for 
the  Oskaloo  part  of  the  bizness,  me  and  Ike  Mosely'll 
run  thet.  And  I  reckon,"  concluded  Mr.  Jerrold, 
rising  and  permitting  a  grim  smile  to  relax  the  cor- 
ners of  his  mouth — "  I  reckon  the  jury  at  thet  trial 
will  le  in  competent  hands." 

Phil  Kernochan  rode  back  to  his  ranch,  tinder  the 
impression  that  the  difficulty  of  combating  local  pre- 
judice at  Oskaloo  was  materially  lessening.  But  Mr. 
Buck  Jerrold  was  gloomy  and  dispirited  all  the  aft- 
ernoon. 


202  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  delight  with  which  Miss 
Stafford  greeted  the  release  of  Henry  Bruce  gave  place 
to  a  very  different  state  of  mind.  In  the  enthusiasm 
of  his  return  to  the  "Mesquite  Valley  Ranch/'  she 
had  detected  no  change  in  his  manner  toward  her. 
Accustomed  from  infancy  to  her  own  way,  the  idea  of  a 
rival,  in  the  regard  she  unquestionably  manifested  for 
the  young  ranchman,  had,  probably^  never  seriously 
crossed  her  mind.  She  had  accepted  the  interest  of 
Bruce  complacently,  laid  claim  to  his  attentions,  as  if 
by  a  species  of  divine  right,  and  exhibited  toward 
him  a  certain  air  of  proprietorship,  with  the  presump- 
tion of  the  sex  when  conscious  of  its  attractions.  To 
quote  the  words  of  Judge  Natchez,  who  was,  for  pro- 
fessional reasons,  some  time  a  guest  at  the  "  Mesquite 
Valley  Ranch,"  the  young  lady's  attitude  toward 
Henry  Bruce  was  that  of  the  "  holder  of  a  first-mort- 
gage bond,  wherein  the  equity  was  decidedly  micro- 
scopic." 

Miss  Stafford  very  soon  awoke  to  an  intelligent 
distrust  of  her  position,  and  then  to  a  conviction  that 
her  power  was  on  the  wane.  Her  mortification  and 
chagrin,  to  find  herself  supplanted  by  one  whom  her 
pride,  in  no  sense,  recognized  as  an  equal,  can  well  be 
imagined. 

Perhaps  the  first  intimation  that  Edith  received 
of  a  change  in  Bruce  was  in  his  manner  of  receiving 
her  slighting  allusions  and  half-contemptuous  men- 
tion of  Miss  Dallas.  Originally,  he  had  passed  these 
over  with  the  good-humored  cynicism  of  a  man  of 
the  world.  But,  now,  anything  of  the  sort  plainly 
irritated  him,  and  persistence  in  the  matter  provoked 
a  retort,  or  possibly  a  sudden  sarcasm.  With  singular 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  203 

infelicity  of  epithet,  Miss  Stafford  had  characterized 
Cynthia's  devotion  to  Bruce,  during  his  imprison- 
ment, as  "kind" — "really  quite  what  one  would 
have  expected  a  girl  of  her  surroundings  to  have 
done." 

It  will  be  understood  that  Bruce — having  passed 
his  early  life  amid  the  same  surroundings  as  Miss 
Stafford,  and  not  having  found  the  modern  society 
belle  particularly  generous  or  self-sacrificing — cher- 
ished a  different  sentiment. 

His  old  interest  in  Cynthia — the  interest  that  he 
had  felt  since  that  first  day,  when  she  had  peeped 
down  upon  him  in  the  gloomy  chasm,  with  her  fra- 
grant suggestions  of  hemlock  and  pine — woke  anew 
in  his  heart,  and  with  it  a  sense  of  gratitude,  from 
which,  I  trust,  mankind,  in  the  rarity  of  feminine 
constancy,  is  not  entirely  exempt.  This  interest  deep- 
ened as  the  spring  advanced  and  the  season  slipped 
into  summer.  He  grew  quite  in  the  habit  of  riding 
over  to  the  Dallas  Eanch  and  passing  the  morning 
in  Cynthia's  society.  Here,  although  he  persuaded 
himself  that  his  attitude  toward  the  young  lady  was 
merely  such  as  a  brother  might  assume  toward  an 
affectionate  sister,  he  was  often  astounded  to  discover 
with  what  winged  feet  the  hours  flew  overhead,  and 
that  familiar  objects  took  on  a  sudden  association  and 
charm  from  the  witchery  of  her  company. 

It  was,  doubtless,  this  brotherly  interest  in  Miss 
Dallas  that  prompted  Henry  Bruce  to  instruct  her 
upon  the  guitar — an  instrument  singularly  calculated 
to  overcome  shyness  and  restraint  between  persons  of 
the  opposite  sex,  and  as  such  to  be  commended.  If, 
while  thus  employed,  Cynthia  found  herself  sitting, 


204:  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

at  times,  very  near  Bruce,  and  their  fingers  danger- 
ously involved,  in  compelling  melody  from  the  re- 
fractory strings,  it  was  unquestionably  due  to  her 
anxiety  to  become  a  proficient  performer.  And  if, 
while  playing  some  chord  or  explaining  some  accom- 
paniment, there  stole  into  the  gentleman's  face  an 
expression,  so  winning  and  tender  that  the  girl's 
sweet  eyes  grew  downcast  and  tremulous,  it  was  the 
zeal  of  the  instructor,  doubtless,  that  prompted  this. 
Certainly,  for  its  opportunities  and  possibilities,  the 
light  guitar  has  reason  to  be  appreciated  ;  and  there 
slumbers  in  its  strings  a  sympathy  that  proves  a 
powerful  ally  to  sentiment. 

Howbeit,  whatever  may  have  been  the  experience 
of  her  companion,  Cynthia  learned  little  from  the 
instrument  of  which  her  heart  had  not  been  eloquent 
before.  But  she  acquired  a  certain  dainty  dexterity, 
and  as  this  musical  intercourse  gave  rise  to  much  con- 
versation and  confidential  disclosure,  it  was  not  long 
before  Bruce  was  well  acquainted  with  all  her  girlish 
dreams  and  fancies — except  one,  in  regard  to  which 
Cynthia  said  nothing,  but  preserved  the  evasive  silence 
of  womankind. 

It  shone  in  her  eyes  that  kindled  at  his  coming  ; 
in  the  quick  color  that  mounted  to  her  cheek  at  his 
approach  ;  in  the  sudden  delicious  tremor  that  seized 
her  when  he  drew  near  ;  and  the  indescribable  thrill 
that  set  her  heart  to  throbbing  whenever  his  hand 
touched  hers.  In  place  of  that  dejection  that  once 
oppressed  her,  a  glad  gayety  and  light-heartedness  at- 
tended all  her  movements.  Joy  laughed  in  the  sun- 
light and  mirth  came  to  her  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. 
The  breeze  that  rocked  the  tree-tops  of  her  bower, 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  205 

letting  slip  bright  shafts  of  light  to  stray  within,  set 
her  all  unconsciously  to  singing. 

Old  man  Dallas  noted  the  change,  and  grew  re- 
served and  thoughtful.  After  Cynthia's  daring  ride 
to  Bradford  Post,  he  had  taken  occasion  to  read  his 
charming  daughter  a  long  homily  on  the  "danger  of 
young  women  showin'  all  to  onct  how  much  store 
they  set  by  any  young  feller."  According  to  Alcides, 
it  was  the  duty  of  the  sex  to  "setback  and  let  things 
hump  themselves  according  to  their  natch'ral  course." 
Cynthia  had  accepted  this  rebuke  meekly.  She  was 
now  uniformly  affectionate  to  her  father. 

"  I  reckon  them  new  bonnets  she  was  talk  in'  about 
must  have  got  up  to  San  Marcus,"  remarked  this  cau- 
tious skeptic,  who  was  inclined  to  refer  all  feminine 
advances  to  mercenary  motives.  Finding,  however, 
that  his  daughter's  caresses  were  quite  gratuitous,  he 
shook  his  head  gravely  with  renewed  distrust.  It  was 
only  after  a  doleful  rehearsal  upon  his  fiddle  of  his 
symphony  to  "Married  Life,"  that  he  appeared  to 
have  pierced  the  heart  of  the  mystery. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Miss  Stafford  ceased 
to  allude  to  the  frequency  of  the  visits  paid  Miss  Dal- 
las by  Henry  Bruce  ;  it  was  about  this  time  that  she  be- 
came apparently  unaware  that  any  such  young  woman 
existed  ;  it  was  about  this  time  that  she  began  to  drop 
stray  hints  in  regard  to  certain  admirers  at  the  North, 
for  whom  she  cherished  an  extravagant  interest — an 
interest  which  speedily  began  to  manifest  itself  in  cor- 
respondence ;  it  was  about  this  time  that  she  gave  out 
that  these  parties  were  importuning  her  greatly  to 
return  home  ;  but  before  doing  so,  she  meditated  a 
coup  d'etat  by  which  she  trusted  to  wring  the  heart 


206  A  NYMPH  OP  THE  WEST. 

of  her  rival,  and,  if  possible,  "lure  this  tassel  gentle 
back  again." 

Meanwhile,  all  unconsciously  the  summer  waxed 
and  waned.  Days  of  endless  blue  and  staring  sun- 
light dropped  the  green  mantle  from  the  hills,  re- 
placing it  with  the  tawny  robe  the  sirocco  lends.  At 
times  the  cool  night-breezes  brought  with  them  a  train 
of  mists  that  held  a  ghostly  dance  beneath  the  moon, 
but  fled  dismayed  at  early  morning  and  trooped  for- 
lornly through  the  valleys,  routed  by  the  fiery  sun. 
Dust  lay  upon  the  spiny  links  and  flaming  blossoms 
of  the  cactus.  The  waters  fled  away,  trailing  a  long 
skeleton  of  stones  across  the  parching  landscape.  The 
wild  doves  beset  the  wasting  pools,  lamenting  the 
eternal  drought  with  their  mournful  cooing,  and  the 
red  deer  grew  tamer  than  the  cattle  of  the  plains  from 
very  thirst.  And  so  the  summer  days  passed  by  ;  until 
September  came,  and  with  it  the  momentous  trial  at 
Oskaloo. 


XV. 

THE  site  of  the  town  of  Oskaloo  was  largely  re- 
sponsible for  the  unfortunate  reputation  of  its  in- 
habitants. Its  surroundings  were  malarial.  The 
village  lay  in  a  low,  marshy  district,  encircled  on 
three  sides  by  a  stagnant  stream.  A  damp,  offensive, 
depressing  mist  crept  in  at  evening  to  brood  above  its 
silent  streets,  and  distribute  fever  and  ague  with  a 
generous  hand.  The  only  avenue  of  escape  from  this 
plague-infested  cul-de-sac  was  the  trail  road  which  led 
undeviatingly  out  of  town  to  the  prairies  and  hills 
beyond.  It  was,  therefore,  with  a  feeling  of  misgiving 
that  the  wary  traveler  descended  it.  A  similar  senti- 
ment prompted  sojourners  in  that  "happy  valley"  to 
decorate  trees  and  bowlders  by  the  wayside  with  warn- 
ing placards  and  inscriptions.  "  Sacred  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Ayer's  Pills  "  was  the  flying  testimony  of  one 
unfortunate. 

Perhaps  it  was  in  consequence  of  these  depressing  at- 
mospheric conditions  that  stimulating  beverages  were 
appreciated  at  Oskaloo.  It  would  seem  that  an  im- 
pression existed  that  the  visible  population  varied  di- 
rectly in  proportion  to  the  presence  and  availability 
of  something  to  drink. 


208  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"  There  didn't  seem  to  be  enough  citizens  about 
to  justify  an  enterprisin'  census  clerk,"  Judge  Natchez 
had  remarked  to  Sheriff  Mosely,  after  a  preliminary 
visit.  "Has  there  been  an  earthquake,  or  an  epi- 
demic, or  what  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  not,"  Mosely  rejoined,  with  a  humor- 
ous twinkle  of  the  eye,  "  but  I'll  allow,  jedge,  ye 
didn't  give  the  boys  any  encouragement.  Now,  ef 
you'd  a-thought  to  set  out  a  pail  of  old  rye  and  a  tin 
dipper  on  thet  thar  stump  in  front  of  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  you'd  ha'  seen  a  constitooency,  to  onct,  thet 
would  ha'  gladdened  yer  eyes.  It's  my  opinion,"  the 
sheriff  continued,  in  easy  disparagement  of  his  birth- 
place, "thet's  about  the  only  way  an  accurate  and 
satisfyin'  census  of  the  poppylation  of  Oskaloo  can  be 
took." 

Although  the  particular  stump  in  front  of  the 
blacksmith's  shop,  referred  to  by  Mr.  Mosely,  was  va- 
cant on  the  morning  of  the  5th  of  September,  the 
crowded  condition  of  the  main  street  justified  the 
suspicion  that  some  similar  attraction  was  in  the 
neighborhood.  The  additional  fact  that  the  temper 
of  the  gathering  was  genial,  strengthened  this  opinion. 
"When  it  is  added  that  actual  hilarity  and  mirth  pre- 
vailed in  the  vicinity  of  a  certain  saloon  which  Mr. 
Buck  Jerrold  had  recently  made  his  headquarters,  the 
situation  will  not  admit  of  further  doubt. 

The  fact  was,  a  phenomenon  had  occurred  at  Os- 
kaloo. For  the  first  time  within  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  inhabitant,  unlimited  refreshment  for  the  inner 
man  had  been  available  to  combat  the  ills  of  a  long 
and  soul-subduing  summer.  It  had  been  customary, 
twice  in  every  year,  for  local  dealers  to  encourage 


A  NYMPH  OF  TIIE  WEST.  209 

trade  by  a  judicious  display,  in  front  of  their  shops, 
of  the  seductive  legend,  "  Whisky  Free  in  the  Back 
Eoom."  But  the  inducement  was  offered  to  the  pur- 
chaser,  and  not  gratuitously  to  the  general  public. 
Now,  however,  this  generous  hospitality  was  within 
the  reach  of  all.  With  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Jerrold,  a 
hogshead  of  spirits  was  immediately  put  on  tap  at  the 
"Long  Divide  Tavern" — a  facetious  title,  supposed 
to  refer  to  the  previous  infrequency  of  drinks  at  that 
well-known  hostelry — and  immediate  patronage  in* 
vited.  Need  it  be  said  that  the  response  was  prompt  ? 
The  luckless  citizens,  living  face  to  face  with  bilious 
fever,  and  a  complaint,  popularly  known  as  "  dumb 
ager,"  rallied  at  the  call  as  at  the  sound  of  a  clarion. 

Nor  only  in  the  town  itself  —  the  news  spread 
like  wild-fire,  and  seemed  to  appeal  directly  to  a  long- 
felt  want  in  outlying  camps.  For  several  days  a  non- 
descript throng  of  horsemen  and  pedestrians  poured 
into  Oskaloo,  cheerfully  unmindful  of  the  wayside 
warnings  already  noticed.  Even  "Peter  the  Her- 
mit," an  aged  vagabond,  who,  in  company  with  two 
mangy,  yellow  dogs,  dwelt  on  a  lonely  divide  outside 
the  settlement,  found  something  in  the  announcement 
that  dispelled  his  asceticism.  He  was  discovered  that 
morning,  stumping  along  pensively  on  his  crutches  in 
eager  haste  to  the  village.  Eventually  he  turned  up 
at  the  tavern,  in  company  with  his  four-footed  com- 
panions, and,  by  a  course  of  grotesque  but  hearty  dis- 
sipation, brought  disgrace  upon  his  brotherhood  and 
the  apparent  contempt  of  his  two  dogs. 

It  was  frankly  announced  by  Mr.  Jerrold — albeit 
without  the  knowledge  of  Henry  Bruce — that  the 
"flow  of  soul,"  thus  inaugurated  at  Oskaloo,  was  en- 
14 


210  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

tirely  at  the  expense  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar.  It 
was  even  suggested  that  this  generosity  was  a  gratui- 
tous tribute,  on  his  part,  to  the  esteem  in  which  he  held 
the  inhabitants.  There  was  a  transparency  about  this 
statement,  in  view  of  the  coming  trial,  which  was 
ingenuous  and  charming.  Howbeit,  the  potency  of 
the  tribute  seemed  to  disarm  criticism.  A  strong  un- 
dercurrent of  sympathy  was  apparent  in  favor  of  the 
prisoner.  He  was  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  public 
benefactor.  When  this  opinion  began  to  manifest 
itself  openly,  the  district  attorney  made  an  effort  for 
impartiality  by  attempting  to  impanel  a  jury,  and 
hold  them  aloof  from  the  spirit  of  philanthropy  which 
was  becoming  epidemic.  He  was  met  by  a  singular 
obstacle.  Fully  one  half  of  the  citizens  of  Oskaloo 
volunteered  their  services  as  jurymen  !  At  this  un- 
heard-of proposition  the  legal  gentleman  permitted 
matters  to  take  their  own  course. 

Mosely  did  not  hesitate  to  contribute  his  quota  to 
the  favorable  opinion.  This  was  by  a  graphic  and 
thrilling  account  of  the  trick  performed  by  Bruce 
with  the  "  Smith  and  Wesson  "  revolver  at  the  San 
Marcus  ball.  To  have  heard  the  sheriff  describe  this 
episode  was  worth  a  hard  day's  riding  ;  to  have  seen 
the  rapt  attention  and  appreciation  of  his  auditors,  a 
much  longer  journey,  So  far  from  prejudicing  the 
popular  feeling  toward  Bruce  in  regard  to  the  killing 
of  Foraker,  it  gave  an  impression  of  proficiency  with 
the  pistol  so  remarkable  as  to  amount  almost  to  justi- 
fication. It  began  to  be  believed  that  it  would  be 
little  short  of  a  crime  to  deal  harshly  with  one  so 
gifted.  "  Pulled  thet  '  barrel-catch  '  slick  and  clean, 
boys,  and  slung  them  cartridges  right  and  left,  so  thet 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  21 1 

Lem  was  nowhar  1 "  Mr.  Mosely  repeated,  illustrating 
the  act  by  practical  manipulation  of  the  deceased 
horse-thief's  weapon.  An  awe  fell  upon  the  company. 
It  was  apparent  that  a  hero  in  difficulties,  and  not  a 
man  in  jeopardy  of  his  life,  awaited  the  respectful 
consideration  of  the  citizens  of  Oskaloo. 

When,  therefore,  Phil  Kernochan  arrived,  bring- 
ing with  him  Henry  Bruce,  Judge  Natchez,  and 
Colonel  Hunt,  who,  with  a  few  of  his  troops,  had 
joined  them  in  the  interests  of  order  and  justice, 
there  was  a  rush  to  see  the  prisoner,  and  something 
like  a  public  demonstration  attempted.  Colonel  Bill 
Furey,  the  prosecuting  attorney,  viewed  this  proceed- 
ing with  ill-favor.  He  glanced  appealingly  at  Judge 
Pemberton,  who  had  dismounted  from  his  buggy, 
and,  leaning  upon  the  wheel,  was  placidly  smoking 
his  cigar  in  conversation  with  the  sheriff.  The  ac- 
tion recalled  that  worthy.  He  threw  aside  his  cigar, 
and  at  once  led  the  way  to  the  court-house,  With 
shouts  and  much  scrambling  for  first  positions,  the 
disorderly  crowd  followed. 

It  was  a  hot  day,  and  the  little  court-room  wa3 
soon  crowded  to  suffocation.  Nevertheless,  in  spite 
of  the  discomfort  of  their  surroundings,  a  singular 
levity  and  good  humor  possessed  the  audience.  No 
sooner  were  the  few  chairs  and  benches  exhausted, 
than  the  throng  cheerfully  availed  themselves  of  the 
floor  and  window-sills  of  the  court.  Here,  packed  in 
on  every  side  like  sardines,  they  evinced  the  liveliest 
interest  in  the  proceedings.  A  disposition  was  ap- 
parent to  assist  the  lawyers  in  selecting  the  jury.  As 
each  man's  name  was  called,  he  was  greeted  with  cheers 
and  cries  of  encouragement,  and  any  reluctance  to 


212  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

serve  provoked  a  storm  of  opposition.  Under  these 
circumstances  the  preliminary  business  of  the  trial 
was  not  transacted  without  some  delay  and  irritation 
on  the  part  of  judge  and  lawyers.  By  the  time  the 
jury  were  sworn,  his  Honor  had  worn  himself  out 
in  his  efforts  to  preserve  order,  and  the  audience  had 
shouted  itself  hoarse  in  abuse  and  personalities.  A 
feeling  of  exhaustion  supervened.  It  was  apparent 
that  something  must  be  done.  When,  therefore,  the 
prisoner's  counsel  rose  in  his  place  to  address  the 
court,  he  received  the  attention  of  all  present. 

"Your  Honor,"  said  Judge  Natchez,  mopping  his 
heated  brow  with  a  red  bandanna  handkerchief,  and 
regarding  the  flushed  features  of  the  justice,  who  sat 
indignant,  arbitrary,  and  collarless,  at  the  head  of  the 
long  table  that  answered  for  the  judicial  bench,  "be- 
fore proceeding  to  trial,  I  would  state  that  the  per- 
liminaries  of  this  case  have  been  powerful  tedious, 
and  I  submit  that  the  gravity  of  the  indictment 
necesaitates  that  this  court  adjourn  and  take  a 
drink." 

There  was  a  dead  silence.  All  eyes  were  fastened 
upon  the  judge.  Wherein  the  situation  differed  from 
a  previous  one,  when  he  had  withstood  temptation 
thus  directly  offered,  I  can  not  say.  Perhaps  the  sti- 
fling atmosphere  may  have  been  too  much  for  his  con- 
science ;  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  his  Honor  reached 
silently  for  his  hat,  and,  drawing  it  over  his  eyes, 
started  abruptly  for  the  door.  His  example  was  fol- 
lowed. In  precisely  three  minutes  after  this  popular 
proposal  of  the  prisoner's  counsel,  the  court-room  was 
vacant. 

It  appeared  subsequently  that,  during  this  inter- 


A   NYMPH   OF   THE   WEST.  213 

val,  a  singular  rivalry  was  manifested  between  Mr. 
Buck  Jerrold  and  Judge  Natchez,  at  the  bar  of  the 
"Long  Divide."  It  was  in  the  matter  of  fortifying 
the  jury  against  the  eloquence  of  opposing  counsel. 
The  solicitude  of  both  parties  was  great,  and  the  ri- 
valry keen — so  keen,  in  fact,  that  the  "twelve  good 
men  and  true  "  grew  mellow  and  philosophic  under 
treatment.  Seeing  which,  Judge  Pemberton  felt 
called  upon  at  last  to  thump  loudly  on  the  bar  with 
his  empty  tumbler,  and  order  a  peremptory  return  to 
the  court-room.  This  being  done,  his  Honor  laid  aside 
his  coat  and  vest,  and,  rising  to  his  feet,  addressed  the 
assembled  court-room  briefly. 

"  It  appears,"  remarked  Judge  Pemberton,  vaguely, 
frowning  darkly  in  evidence  of  the  affront  offered  his 
judicial  dignity  by  recent  events — "  it  appears,  that  a 
disposition  is  on  foot  to  defeat  the  ends  of  justice  by 
tamperin'  with  this  yer  jury.  What  I  knows,  I  knows, 
and  seen  myself.  It  hez  got  to  be  stopped,  or  I'll 
impose  fines  here  for  contempt  of  court,  thet'll  bank- 
rupt the  hull  county  to  pay  'em  !  Ez  to  how  much 
the  counsel  in  this  case,  their  friends,  and  the  au- 
dience, gener'ly,  feel  called  upon  to  hoist,  in  order  to 
grapple  with  the  case  in  hand,  I  hev  nothin'  to  say. 
Thet's  their  bizness.  But  thet  thar  jury  is  mine,  and 
I  propose  to  run  them  myself. — Sheriff  Mosely,  you 
will  quarantyne  them  twelve  men  durin'  dinner,  and 
until  they  reach  a  vardict.  I  hold  you  pussonally 
responsible  for  the  mental  condition  of  the  hull  ca- 
boodle." 

This  severe  rebuke  cast  a  temporary  gloom  over 
the  court-room,  that  his  Honor's  complicity  in  the 
recent  conviviality  could  not  entirely  subdue. 


214  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

When,  at  length,  the  case  of  "  The  People  vs.  Henry 
Bruce  "  was  formally  opened,  it  appeared  that  the  dis- 
trict attorney  would  "  call  the  attention  of  the  intelli- 
gent bench  before  him,  to  one  of  the  most  cruel  and 
blood-curdling  murders  of  modern  times."  The  incre- 
dulity with  which  the  jury  received  this  announce- 
ment, was  decidedly  discouraging  to  the  State's  repre- 
sentative. It  appeared,  however,  that  this  version  of 
the  case  rested  on  the  attorney's  unsupported  state- 
ment. There  were  no  witnesses  to  the  highly  ingen- 
ious and  thrilling  assassination  of  Captain  Foraker 
which  he  proceeded  to  set  forth  in  detail.  When  he 
attempted  to  offer  in  evidence  the  testimony  of  the 
sergeant  of  Foraker's  men,  as  to  what  Lemuel  Wick- 
son  had  told  him  of  the  affair  through  the  windows 
of  the  jail,  Judge  Natchez  promptly  objected.  In 
the  language  of  the  prisoner's  counsel,  "  Whereas 
Lem  Wickson  was  deceased,  contrary  to  his  own  ex- 
pectation, this  fairy-tale  of  thet  thar  hoss-thief  was 
no  ante-mortem  statement."  Sheriff  Mosely  was  sworn, 
and  testified,  moreover,  that  at  the  time  of  the  affray 
between  Foraker  and  the  prisoner,  Wickson  was  in 
close  custody,  and  some  three  miles  from  both  parties. 
"  Pr'aps,  boys,"  said  Ike,  winking  craftily  at  certain 
of  his  fellow-townsmen,  ranged  on  the  jury  benches, 
"  you'll  let  thet  pettyfoggin'  old  skeesicks  delude  you 
into  the  idee,  that  Lem  bed  the  sight  of  a  Mexican 
buzzard,  and  could  spot  the  hull  situation  from  thet 
thar  distance  ! " 

But,  here,  Judge  Pemberton,  whose  judicial  con- 
science was  now  thoroughly  aroused,  asked  the  sheriff 
on  which  side  of  the  case  he  was  retained,  and  called 
him  sternly  to  order.  Ike  gravely  descended  from 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  215 

the  stand,  after  assuring  the  jury  that  he  was  on  the 
same  side  as  his  Honor  and  all  lovers  of  law  and  jus- 
tice. 

It  was  then  developed  that  all  the  evidence  in  the 
case  rested  upon  the  unsupported  statement  of  Henry 
Bruce,  who  was  sworn  in  his  own  defense.  He  was 
asked  to  give  an  account  of  the  killing,  which  he  did 
in  a  few  direct  and  simple  words.  The  sincerity  of  his 
manner,  the  dignity  of  his  bearing,  and  the  quiet  man- 
liness of  Bruce  in  his  trying  position  had  its  weight 
with  his  judges.  But  there  was  one  fact  which  more 
than  any  thing  else  compelled  the  reverence  of  this  Lone 
Star  tribunal.  It  was  this  :  that  the  man  who  stood 
before  them,  on  trial  for  his  life,  had  been  able  to  dis- 
arm an  outlaw,  in  the  act  of  brandishing  a  Smith  and 
Wesson  "  six-shooter  "  at  full  cock  !  It  may  be  doubted 
whether,  in  view  of  the  recent  adjournment,  certain 
of  the  jury  were  nob  in  doubt  as  to  whether  this  was 
not  the  real  cause  at  issue.  At  any  rate,  the  foreman 
permitted  his  features  to  relax  in  smiling  scrutiny  of 
the  prisoner,  during  the  taking  of  his  testimony. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  with  anxiety  in  his  face  and 
manner,  that  Mr.  Buck  Jerrold  approached  Sheriff 
Mosely  when  the  court  took  a  recess  for  dinner. 

"  What's  up  ?  "  inquired  Ike,  noting  his  compan- 
ion's dejection.  "I  reckon  the  prevailin' opinion  is 
favorable,  Buck,"  he  continued,  glancing  in  at  the 
open  door  of  the  tent,  where  the  arbiters  of  the  fate 
of  Henry  Bruce  were  serenely  discussing  their  noon- 
day meal. 

"  Thet's  jest  it ! "  replied  Mr.  Jerrold.  "  The 
opinion  is  favorable  now,  Ike,  but  sence  you've  got 
thet  jury  quarantyned,  how  long  is  it  goiu'  to  last  ? 


216  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

You  must  keep  'em  up  to  it ! .  Ef  I  could  only  con- 
trive to  reach  'em  with  this  iiniversal  pannyseer  thet 
makes  'em  so  charitably  disposed — well  and  good. 
I  know  the  town,  ye  see,  and  it's  gin'ral  senti- 
ments. When  the  reaction  sets  in,  there's  no  holdin' 
'em." 

The  gloom  of  Mr.  Jerrold's  manner  gave  the  sheriff 
a  sense  of  conviction.  He  became  thoughtful  at  once. 
Suddenly  his  eye  brightened.  He  drew  himself  up  to 
the  height  of  his  small  figure,  and  brought  his  right 
hand  down  with  a  vigorous  slap  upon  the  shoulder  of 
Buck  Jerrold.  It  seemed  that  all  the  nervous  energy 
of  his  nature  was  concentrated  in  the  two  words  he 
whispered — 

"Iced  tea!" 

Closing  one  eye  gravely  upon  the  recipient  of  his 
information,  he  returned  to  an  apparently  watchful 
scrutiny  of  the  twelve  occupants  of  the  boarding- 
tent. 

In  a  surprisingly  short  space  of  time,  a  beverage, 
proffered  under  the  above  title,  and  bearing  a  strong 
resemblance,  in  color  at  least,  to  that  familar  metro- 
politan drink,  began  to  circulate  about  the  deal  board 
and  achieved  instant  popularity.  If  there  was  about 
this  beverage  a  peculiar  odor,  entirely  foreign  to  the 
national  drink  of  China,  it  may  have  been  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  large  and  substantial  pitcher,  in  which 
it  was  dispensed,  had  subserved  another  purpose  earlier 
in  the  day.  Certainly  the  fact  excited  no  comment 
from  its  patrons.  But,  when  the  jury  left  the  social 
board,  it  was  with  no  perceptible  lowering  of  mien 
or  manner,  and  it  was  even  remarked  that  the  easy 
roll,  affected  by  some  of  them,  was  more  in  keep- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  217 

ing  with  the  locomotion  of  the  jolly  Jack  tar,  than 
the  dilatory  step  which  usually  distinguishes  the 
Texan. 

I  pass  over  the  ahle  and  eloquent  charge  delivered 
by  Judge  Pemberton,  as  not  strictly  necessary  here. 
Enough,  that  his  Honor's  exposition  of  the  law  was 
made,  with  the  assistance  of  certain  notes  and  hiero- 
glyphics, recorded  with  a  piece  of  chalk  on  a  pine 
shingle,  during  the  progress  of  the  trial.  Enough, 
that  he  emphasized  his  points,  by  carelessly  tap- 
ping the  bench  with  the  handle  of  a  Colt's  "six- 
shooter,"  which  he  had  recently  taken  from  his  belt 
to  serve  the  purpose  of  the  customary  gavel.  Enough, 
that,  when  he  defined  the  law  in  accordance  with  a 
certain  state  of  facts,  he  staked  his  legal  reputation 
and  a  casual  fifty  dollars  on  the  strength  of  his  po- 
sition. Judge  Pemberton  did  not  direct  a  verdict, 
though  requested  so  to  do  by  both  Judge  Natchez  and 
Colonel  Furey,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  this  was 
a  criminal  action.  It  was  apparent  that  his  Honor 
desired  to  be  just.  It  was  only  when  he  dropped  the 
suggestion,  that  "  frontier  captains  hed  been  givin'  too 
much  lately  to  runnin'  towns  in  Texas,"  that  he  was 
supposed  to  betray  his  own  personal  convictions.  But 
he  retrieved  this  false  step  by  an  appeal  for  justice 
that  electrified  the  court-room. 

Amid  a  breathless  silence  the  jury  left  the  benches 
and  repaired  to  the  neighboring  stable  to  deliberate 
upon  their  verdict.  They  were  attended  by  a  majority 
of  those  present,  who  were  stopped  at  the  open  door 
of  this  building  by  the  armed  interposition  of  the 
sheriff.  Nevertheless,  some  verbal  advice  was  offered 
them  by  the  disappointed  throng  who  could  readily 


218  A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

discern  their  consulting  figures,  grouped  about  a  di- 
lapidated manger  in  the  interior. 

In  the  little  court-room  Judge  Pemberton  relaxed 
his  dignity.  He  lighted  a  black  clay  pipe,  tilted  his 
chair  back,  and,  stacking  both  his  cowhide  boots  on 
a  dilapidated  law-book,  clasped  his  hands  behind 
his  head  in  dreamy  contemplation  of  the  moldy  ceil- 
ing. The  prisoner  and  his  counsel  conversed  in  low 
tones.  A  sudden  nasal  murmur  shook  the  court- 
room. The  avenging  spirit  of  Justice  was  beginning 
to  nod. 

There  was  a  quick  shuffling  of  feet  at  the  door- 
way and  a  hurried  rush  for  the  court-room.  The  jury 
filed  solemnly  back.  The  prosecuting  attorney  en- 
tered hastily  among  the  thronging  citizens,  suspicious- 
ly wiping  his  lips  with  his  red  bandanna.  Judge  Pem- 
berton awoke  with  a  prolonged  snore,  and,  grasping 
his  six-shooter,  immediately  rapped  for  silence,  unfort- 
unately in  sleepy  criticism  of  his  own  nasal  efforts. 
Staggering  hurriedly  to  his  feet,  he  adjusted  his  glasses 
and  frowned  severely  upon  the  serene  and  complacent 
twelve. 

"  Boys,"  said  his  Honor,  gravely,  *u'hev  you  agreed 
upon  your  vardict  ?  " 

"I  reckon  so,  jedge,"  replied  the  foreman,  with 
a  broad  grin. 

"  How  say  you  ?    Is  the  prisoner  guilty  ?  " 

"  Guilty  ?  "  returned  the  foreman,  with  an  incred- 
ulous sniff — "not  much!" 

"  How  hev  you  found,  then  ?  "  inquired  his  Honor. 

"Wai,  jedge,"  the  foreman  responded,  familiarly, 
while  he  leaned  unsteadily  on  the  legal  table  and  com- 
prehended the  entire  court-room  in  a  single  philan- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  219 

thropic  smile — "ye  see,  it's  about  like  this.  We've 
sized  the  sitooation  up  and  been  over  the  whole  biz- 
ness.  Here's  the  diseased  knows  how  peart  the  pris- 
oner is  with  a  six-shooter,  and  thet  it's  voluntary  sui- 
cide to  go  ag'in  him  :  accordin'ly,  he  gits  bilin'  full, 
and  allows  to  lay  him  out ;  natch'ally,  diseased  goes 
under ;  and  we  finds  prisoner  not  guilty,  owin'  to 
contribetary  negligence  on  the  part  of  diseased." 


XVI. 

THE  elation  of  Phil  Kernochun,  over  the  result  of 
the  trial  at  Oskaloo,  can  be  better  imagined  than  de- 
scribed. In  his  triumphant  joy  the  humor  of  the 
verdict  was  disregarded.  He  threw  his  arms  about 
his  partner's  neck  and  embraced  him  in  the  presence 
of  the  crowded  court-room.  And  a  score  of  times, 
during  the  journey  back  to  the  "Mesquite  Valley 
Banch,"  he  would  spur  his  horse  to  his  side  and  clap 
him  on  his  shoulder,  in  the  transport  of  his  delight 
over  his  release. 

Bruce  received  his  acquittal  with  philosophic  calm- 
ness. But,  while  justified  in  his  own  conscience 
from  the  outset,  as  to  the  necessity  of  his  act,  he  had 
been  manifestly  moved  by  the  popular  feeling  in  his 
behalf.  Especially  was  he  grateful  for  the  action  of 
Sheriff  Mosely  and  Buck  Jerrold.  Although,  in  no 
sense,  a  party  to  the  method  by  which  these  gentlemen 
had  felt  it  necessary  to  forestall  a  prejudiced  com- 
munity in  his  behalf,  he  was  deeply  indebted  for  the 
impulse  which  prompted  it.  He  attempted  to  convey 
some  idea  of  his  feelings  to  the  two  men,  but  was  met  by 
an  emphatic  denial  of  obligation.  Mr.  Jerrold  claimed 
that  Bruce  had  conferred  a  personal  favor  upon  him 
and  the  public  at  large,  by  the  killing  of  the  late  Cap- 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  221 

tain  Foraker.  The  sheriff  maintained,  as  stoutly,  that 
it  was  only  by  the  indulgence  of  the  ranchman  that 
he  was  alive  at  all,  and  that  he  was  morally  bound  to 
act  as  he  did. 

It  was  a  joyful  return  to  the  "  Mesquite  Valley 
Ranch."  Difficult,  indeed,  would  it  be  to  exaggerate 
the  enthusiastic  welcome  of  the  impulsive  Kate  ;  the 
overjoyed,  though  restrained,  greeting  of  the  more 
conservative  Edith  ;  for,  in  the  brief  interval  of  his 
absence,  Miss  Stafford  had  passed  some  very  lonely 
hours,  and  had  found  time  to  realize  how  much  the 
presence  of  Bruce  had  grown  to  be  to  her.  If  she 
had  reflected  with  bitterness  upon  the  change  in  his 
attitude  toward  her  ;  if  she  had  found  the  contrast  be- 
tween Miss  Dallas  and  herself  so  overwhelming  that 
she  almost  pitied  Bruce  for  the  blindness  of  his  own 
vision  :  there  was  nothing  strange  or  unfeminine  in  all 
this.  Indeed,  considering  the  tender  regard  the  lady 
entertained  for  the  ranchman,  it  was  quite  natural 
that  she  should  be  convinced,  that  she  was  the  one 
person  in  the  wide  world  to  make  him  happy.  Quite 
as  natural  was  it,  that  she  should  see  nothing  but  mis- 
ery for  him  in  indulging  this  unexplainable  regard 
for  Miss  Dallas  ;  that  she  should  believe  Bruce  to  be 
the  victim  of  some  species  of  enchantment  ;  and  that 
the  prestige  of  her  own  birth  and  position  should  in- 
spire her  with  little  but  aversion  and  contempt  for 
her  rival. 

Actuated  by  these  feelings,  the  fair  Edith,  during 
the  first  hours  of  his  return,  laid  aside  the  pique  that 
she  had  shown  of  late,  and  displayed  an  arch  and 
playful  manner  that  Bruce  had  once  found  irresisti- 
ble. It  was  the  old  Edith,  whose  nameless  grace  and 


222  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

charm  had  once  well»nigh  betrayed  him  into  a  decla- 
ration, For  a  time  he  appeared  like  one  fascinated 
by  a  memory  of  the  past,  and  Edith  was  about  to 
congratulate  herself  upon  the  return  of  her  influence, 
when  one  morning  she  beheld  him  saddle  his  horse 
and  ride  away,  without  taking  leave  of  her  as  of  old. 
It  was  three  days  before  he  again  appeared  at  the 
"  Mesquite  Valley  Ranch."  Miss  Stafford  needed  no 
prompting  as  to  the  nature  of  his  journey.  The  di- 
rection in  which  his  horse  had  been  headed  settled 
that.  But  she  was  grieved  and  indignant.  Without 
stopping  to  trace  the  steps  by  which  she  arrived  at 
this  conclusion,  she  felt  herself  terribly  outraged  and 
wronged.  She  was  vindictive  in  consequence.  How- 
beit,  she  resolved  to  make  one  more  determined  effort 
to  regain  her  ascendency.  She  would,  if  possible,  re- 
move Bruce  from  the  influence  of  this  rural  siren  who 
was  fast  teaching  him  to  forget  the  requirements  of 
his  rank  of  life.  If  in  the  interval  Cynthia,  finding 
herself  abandoned,  should  decide  to  crown  the  hopes 
of  one  so  suitable  as  the  gloomy  Mr.  Jerrold,  Miss 
Stafford  would  renew  her  childish  belief  that  "all 
marriages  were  made  in  heaven." 

In  this  strait,  she  appealed  to  Kernochan  to  fulfill 
a  promise,  given  long  before,  to  take  them  on  a  fort- 
night's trip  to  Austin,  the  capital  of  the  State.  She 
reminded  him  that  her  visit  was  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  that  the  time  was  short  in  which  to  keep  his 
word.  Her  indulgent  host  readily  acquiesced. 

When  this  trip  had  been  decided  upon,  Phil  Ker- 
nochan proposed  that  the  four  should  ride  over  to  San 
Marcus  on  horseback,  it  being  necessary  that  he  and 
his  partner  should  arrange  some  business  matters  be- 


A  NYMPH  OP  THE  WEST.  223 

fore  their  departure,  The  proposal  was  received  with 
favor. 

Before  setting  out,  Miss  Stafford  repaired  to  her 
room,  where  she  arrayed  herself  in  the  faultless  riding- 
dress  with  which  she  had  once  electrified  Miss  Dallas. 
As  she  peered  into  her  toilet-mirror,  there  was  a  grim 
resolve  about  the  lines  of  her  mouth  from  which  her 
quick-witted  sex  might  have  argued  no  quarter  to  a 
rival.  And  it  was  noticeable  that  the  few  additional 
hair-pins,  with  which  the  lady  found  it  necessary  to 
secure  her  raven  tresses,  were  placed  in  position  al- 
most fiercely— very  much  as  Miss  Edith  might  have 
used  a  harpoon  upon  some  creature  that  had  excited 
her  resentment.  When  her  toilet  was  completed,  she 
surveyed  herself  from  head  to  foot  critically,  but  with 
evident  approval ;  after  which  she  opened  a  small 
jewel-casket,  and,  taking  from  an  inner  recess  a  ring, 
she  slipped  it  hurriedly  upon  the  third  finger  of  her 
left  hand.  It  was  a  solitaire  diamond,  large  and  brill- 
iant, and  she  passed  her  small  handkerchief  across  it 
once  or  twice,  catching  the  morning  sunlight  on  the 
flashing  jewel,  and  noting  how  it  graced  her  dimpled 
hand.  But  there  was  an  expression  in  the  lady's  dark 
eyes  that  was  hardly  reassuring. 

The  ring  was  a  mere  memory  with  Edith — a  sou- 
venir of  an  attachment  from  which  the  sentiment  had 
long  since  faded — a  relic  of  an  almost  forgotten  past. 
Howbeit,  although  she  usually  wore  no  rings,  she  per- 
mitted it  to  remain  upon  her  finger  that  morning, 
and,  drawing  her  riding-glove  quickly  over  the  gem, 
she  joined  the  mounted  party  at  the  ranch-gate,  where 
the  impatient  Phil  was  calling  loudly  upon  the  ladies 
to  hurry. 


224  A  NYMPH   OF  THE   WEST. 

After  dinner  that  afternoon,  when  Kernochan  and 
Bruce  had  left  them  to  transact  the  inevitable  busi- 
ness ;  and  Kate,  weary  with  the  morning's  ride,  had 
insisted  on  taking  a  siesta,  in  spite  of  the  stuffy  at- 
mosphere of  the  San  Marcus  Hotel ;  Edith  was  domi- 
nated by  a  sudden  energy.  She  leaned  against  a  win- 
dow of  the  dreary  parlor,  and  gazed  down  the  dusty 
road  toward  the  green  foliage  of  the  river.  How  cool 
it  looked  there !  And  what  a  short  distance  away  ! 
What  was  to  prevent  her  going  there,  if  she  would  ? 
She  answered  this  question  by  ordering  the  sleepy 
proprietor  to  have  her  pony  saddled  and  brought  to 
the  front  gallery  at  once, 

Having  succeeded  in  gaining  the  saddle  unassisted, 
with  an  ease  and  dash  that  left  that  worthy  speech- 
less and  staring,  Miss  Stafford  rode  quietly,  out  of 
town.  When  she  reached  the  river,  she  did  not  stop, 
but  guiding  her  unwilling  mustang  skillfully  across 
the  shallow  ford,  she  turned  in  the  shade  of  the  trees 
upon  the  opposite  bank,  taking  the  direction  of  the 
Dallas  Ranch.  She  knew  its  general  position  from  a 
remark  of  Bruce  during  the  week  of  the  San  Marcus 
Ball.  She  did  not  think  the  distance  great.  Hardly 
had  she  taken  the  trail- road,  when  she  encountered 
Buck  Jerrold,  riding  along  listless  and  dejected  upon 
the  gaunt  "  Buckshot." 

The  man  raised  his  serious  face  and  saluted  her 
gravely.  Edith  drew  rein.  Grateful  for  her  rescue 
some  months  previous,  the  fastidious  Miss  Stafford 
treated  him  with  uniform  courtesy ;  just  now,  the 
meeting  was  most  opportune.  Did  Mr.  Jerrold  know 
the  distance  to  the  Dallas  Ranch,  and  would  he  direct 
her  to  it  ?  Buck  stared,  gave  the  information  in  the 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST.  225 

usual  blind  Southern  fashion,  but  did  not  volunteer 
any  personal  guidance.  Edith,  moreover,  did  not  re- 
quest it.  But  was  Miss  Cynthia  at  home  ?  Mr.  Jerrold 
stared  again,  and  reckoned  she  was.  Miss  Stafford 
thanked  him,  and  dashed  away  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated, leaving  the  cow-man  gazing  solemnly  after  her. 
But,  as  she  rode,  Edith  reflected  upon  his  gloomy 
bearing,  and  was  not  without  feeling  that  she  was 
acting  very  generously  toward  him,  in  the  utterly 
selfish  purpose  she  had  in  mind. 

Cynthia  was  in  her  bower,  whither,  of  late,  she  had 
been  much  given  to  repairing.  She  was  lying  in  her 
hammock,  swinging  listlessly  to  and  fro,  her  half- 
closed  eyes  dreamily  regarding  the  ever-swaying  cur- 
tain of  green  above  her  head.  The  flecked  shadows 
played  over  her  face  and  red-gold  hair,  as  the  ham- 
mock swung,  and,  reckless  of  sun-tan  or  exposure, 
she  had  thrown  her  arms  above  her  head,  her  fingers 
carelessly  intertwined.  "Aulus,"  graver  and  more 
dignified  than  usual,  crouched  at  her  feet. 

She  was  happy — happier  than  she  had  ever  felt  or 
known  before  ;  and  as  she  swung  there,  her  guardian 
brothers  of  the  wood  seemed  to  nod  and  beckon,  as  if 
in  sympathy  with  the  happiness  she  felt.  For,  had 
not  he,  who  had  brought  this  new-found  happiness 
into  her  life,  come  forth  unscathed  from  the  troubles 
and  dangers  surrounding  him  ?  She  recalled  the  wea- 
riness and  anxiety  of  the  previous  days  ;  the  fear  with 
which  she  had  flown  to  her  father  and  besought  him 
to  take  her  to  the  trial  in  the  distant  frontier  town, 
that  she  might  personally,  by  her  presence  and  sym- 
pathy, sustain  him  in  the  hour  of  his  distress.  She 
remembered  the  amazement  and  indignation  of  Al- 
15 


226  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

cides,  who  turned  for  relief,  after  this  unblushing  re- 
quest of  his  fair  daughter,  to  a  frenzied  rehearsal  of 
his  favorite  symphony  upon  his  violin. 

But  it  was  all  over  now.  He  was  safe  ;  he  had 
returned ;  she  was  content.  And  yet,  in  the  restful 
quiet  of  the  little  wood,  Cynthia  could  not  but  feel  a 
pang  of  pity  for  the  man  who  had  just  left  her  with 
no  hope  in  his  eyes,  to  whose  generous  conduct  much 
of  the  present  joy  she  felt  was  due. 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  footstep  without,  and 
the  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  sudden  flush.  She 
put  both  hands  to  her  head  as  if  to  efface  any  disorder 
of  her  tresses  due  to  her  previous  attitude.  A  broad 
shaft  of  sunlight,  slipping  through  the  branches  over- 
head, steeped  in  glowing  warmth  her  picturesque  face 
and  figure. 

A  moment  of  expectation,  and  Miss  Stafford,  cool, 
erect,  and  fastidious,  holding  her  immaculate  skirts 
in  the  gloved  fingers  of  her  right  hand,  stepped  within. 
As  she  did  so,  she  toyed  carelessly  with  the  riding- 
whip  held  in  her  left,  and  gazed  curiously  about  her. 
Their  eyes  met.  Miss  Stafford  bent  her  head  coldly, 
and  permitted  Cynthia  the  slightest  inclination  of  her 
arched  eyebrows.  The  recognition  of  Miss  Dallas  was 
equally  cordial. 

An  embarrassing  pause  followed  these  civilities. 
Edith  was  the  first  to  break  it. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  surprised  to  see  me  here,"  she 
began,  with  more  embarrassment  of  manner  than  she 
had  deemed  possible.  She  glanced  down  at  the  whip 
she  held  lightly  between  her  gloved  fingers.  Cynthia 
remained  quiet. 

"The  fact  is,  Miss  Dallas,"  Edith  recommenced, 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  227 

the  hesitation  of  her  manner  lending  an  apparent  sin- 
cerity to  her  words — "the  fact  is,  I  am  going  away 
yery  soon  ;  but  I  felt  I  could  not  do  so,  without  thank- 
ing you  for  your  kindness  to  me  in  being  so  good  to 
Mr.  Bruce." 

Cynthia  raised  her  eyebrows  and  stared  blankly 
at  Edith,  turning  her  head  a  little  one  side — very 
much  as  a  bird  will,  when  doubtful  if  it  has  heard 
aright.  She  grew  a  shade  paler,  but  replied  that  she 
was  gratified,  if  anything  she  had  done  had  found 
favor  with  Miss  Stafford.  If  look  and  manner,  how- 
ever, counted  for  anything,  it  was  quite  evident  that 
the  temperature  of  Cynthia's  gratification  was  indefi- 
nitely below  zero. 

"  I  mean  by  your  riding  over  to  his  assistance  in 
the  reckless  fashion  you  did,"  Miss  Stafford  con- 
tinued. "  It  was  really  quite  romantic  and  kind  of 
you,  you  know — quite  what  one  reads  about ;  and  I 
wanted  to — to  thank  you.  I  told  Mr.  Bruce  so.  I 
know  he  feels  much  as  I  do." 

There  was  a  very  perceptible  change  in  Cynthia's 
manner  while  listening  to  this  ingenuous  statement. 
Apparently  she  grew  several  inches  taller  under  Miss 
Stafford's  patronage.  Her  lip  curled  perceptibly  and 
her  eyes  flashed,  as  she  implied  very  decidedly  that  she 
was  quite  aware  what  Mr.  Bruce  thought  about  it. 

"  Very  possibly,"  Miss  Stafford  assented,  quietly — 
"  but  I  was  only  telling  you  what  he  said  to  me.  I 
am  going  away,  you  know — we  are  loth  going  away." 
Miss  Stafford  emphasized  the  "both."  "I  thought 
you  ought  to  know  how  we  felt  in  the  matter." 

The  ominous  plural  fell  like  a  knell  upon  Cynthia. 
She  felt  her  breath  grow  quick  and  short,  and  a  sud- 


228  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

den  faintness  seize  her.  But  she  did  not  change  her 
attitude.  She  remained  gazing  steadfastly  up  into 
the  beautiful  face  before  her.  There  was  disdain  in 
the  brown  eyes,  and  she  felt  it. 

"  And  so  you  turned  yourself  into  Henry  Bruce's 
errand-boy  to  let  me  know,"  she  replied,  calmly. 
"Well,  now,  thet's  kind  of  you,  I'm  sure  ;  you  reck- 
oned I  was  just  natch'ally  lyin'  awake  nights  to  get 
your  approval,  and  you  couldn't  rest  until  you  took 
this  way  of  showin'  it.  P'raps  you'll  be  willin'  to 
say,  Miss  Stafford,  how  long  you've  been  carryin'  his 
messages  and  runnin'  his  errands  ?"f 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed  merrily,  as 
she  said  this — a  laugh  so  musical  and  clear  that  it 
seemed  to  ripple  upward  from  the  very  heart  of  joy. 
Miss  Stafford  blushed  crimson  beneath  her  merriment. 
It  steeled  her  to  adhere  to  her  original  purpose.  With 
a  sudden  gesture  she  stripped  off  the  glove  upon  her 
left  hand  ;  the  glittering  facets  of  the  diamond  she 
wore  flashed  in  the  broad  shaft  of  sunbeams  that  cleft 
the  bower. 

"  Do  you  see  that  ring  ? "  she  demanded,  coldly, 
suffering  the  fascinated  eyes  of  the  girl  to  rest  a  mo- 
ment upon  the  sparkling  gem.  "  Perhaps  that  will 
explain  my  interest  in  the  welfare  of  Mr.  Bruce." 

She  turned  proudly,  flashed  one  brief  glance  of 
triumph  upon  Cynthia  from  beneath  her  supercilious 
lashes,  and  swept  haughtily  out  of  the  bower.  Cyn- 
thia was  alone  with  the  agony  of  the  sudden  revela- 
tion. 

She  put  one  hand  to  her  head  in  a  half-dazed  way, 
as  if  she  felt  a  sudden  pain  there.  The  ground  seemed 
slipping  away  beneath  her  feet ;  the  horizon  whirled 


A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST.  229 

around  her.  She  felt  in  one  brief  instant  as  if  the 
sunlight  had  gone  from  the  earth — the  vivid  blue 
from  the  sky  ;  and  the  next  she  was  lying  prone  upon 
the  mosses  at  her  feet,  weighed  down  by  the  gray, 
despairing  monotone  that  seemed  suddenly  to  possess 
all  things.  She  pressed  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  bury- 
ing her  face  deep  down  in  the  soft  lichens,  as  if  to 
shut  out  of  sight  the  dreadful  reality  which  suddenly 
confronted  her.  Then  a  quick  tremor  shook  her, 
and  she  was  crying  silently  as  if  her  heart  would 
break. 

How  long  she  lay  there,  overcome  by  the  weight 
of  this  sudden  sorrow  that  had  come  into  her  life, 
Cynthia  did  not  know.  She  was  only  aware,  in  an 
indefinite  way,  that  the  chirp  of  cricket  and  grass- 
hopper throbbed  monotonously  through  the  conscious- 
ness of  her  woe  ;  that  the  birds  seemed  to  sing  care- 
lessly as  if  in  mockery  of  it ;  and  that  through  it  all 
her  faithful  "  Aulus"  fawned  about  her  with  rude  ca- 
resses and  strove  to  comfort  her. 

And  so  he  was  really  engaged  to  Miss  Stafford  ; 
that  was  the  end,  then.  This  man  whom  she  had  so 
trusted  and -believed  had  been  playing  a  double  part 
with  her,  and  had  called  her  out  of  the  ignorant  con- 
tent of  her  early  life,  only  to  crush  her  with  the  new 
joy  he  had  awakened.  Oh,  the  pity  of  it !  And  she 
had  shown  she  loved  him  so  !  Overcome  by  the  bit- 
terness of  this  reflection,  she  sank  down  again,  and 
lay  there  pale  and  wretched,  twining  her  fingers  list- 
lessly in  the  soft  mosses,  her  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy, 
and  oblivious  of  all  else,  save  this  one,  mortifying,  hu- 
miliating, agonizing  fact. 

The  moments  went  slowly  by.   The  shadows  shifted 


230  A  NYMPH  OF  THE   WEST. 

on  the  pine-strewn  floor.  High  overhead  a  squirrel, 
that  had  marked  her  grief,  dropped  a  cone  down  upon 
her  as  if  in  protest.  A  motionless  red  lizard,  that  at 
first  seemed  to  sympathize  with  her,  leered  at  her 
from  an  adjacent  stone,  and  was  growing  visibly  hys- 
terical. And  then  this  irony  of  Xature  was  dispelled 
by  a  footstep  that  came  quickly  into  the  bower.  The 
squirrel  flashed  suddenly  around  a  limb,  and  the  liz- 
ard rustled  off  into  the  thicket.  Cynthia  raised  her 
eyes.  Henry  Bruce  was  standing  over  her,  regarding 
her  with  a  curious,  questioning  glance. 

She  gave  him  no  word  or  sign  of  recognition.  The 
one  brief  glance  with  which  she  swept  his  face  had  in 
it  the  scorn  and  contempt  of  the  injured  woman. 
She  sprang  to  her  feet,  dashing  away  from  her,  with  a 
passionate  gesture,  the  hand  he  had  extended  to  her 
aid.  Turning  her  back  upon  him,  she  sought  the 
farthest  corner  of  the  bower. 

Bruce  was  astounded  at  this  reception.  He  took 
a  step  or  two  toward  her  and  attempted  to  take  her 
hands  in  his.  She  whipped  them  indignantly  behind 
her  and  faced  him  with  flashing  eyes.  In  his  igno- 
rance of  what  had  passed,  the  young  ranchman  cast 
about  him  for  some  act  of  his  that  could  have  caused 
this  sudden  anger. 

"  Cynthia,"  he  said,  breaking  the  silence,  "  what 
is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  I  am  going  away  on  a  brief 
trip  to  Austin.  I  have  come  to  bid  you  good-by. 
Have  you  no  word  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

She  waved  him  away  with  an  imperious  gesture. 

"There  is  no  need  of  it,"  she  said.  "  I  have  re- 
ceived your  good-bys  already,  from  her  !  " 

Bruce  stared.     lie  gave  a  surprised  glance  about 


A  NYMPH  OP  THE  WEST.  231 

him.  Lying  at  his  feet  among  the  pine-needles  was  a 
dainty  glove  of  undressed  kid.  He  recognized  it 
instantly  as  belonging  to  Edith.  Involuntarily  he 
stooped  and  picked  up  the  perfumed  trifle.  It  was 
redolent  of  its  owner.  He  turned  with  a  look  of  in- 
quiry to  Cynthia. 

"  Has  Miss  Stafford  been  here  ?  "  he  asked,  almost 
sternly.  He  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  icy  brevity 
of  her  reply  : 

"Yes." 

"  And  she  told  you  I  was  going  away  ?  " 

"She  said  you  were  both  going,"  said  Cynthia, 
simply.  The  word  seemed  to  choke  her,  but  she  re- 
covered herself  with  an  effort.  "She  showed  me  the 
ring  that  you  gave  her,  and  said  she  wished  to  thank 
me  for  my  kindness  to  you." 

In  spite  of  herself,  the  tears  started  to  the  girl's 
beautiful  eyes.  An  angry  flush  came  suddenly  over 
the  face  of  Bruce. 

"  It  is  strange  that,  as  one  personally  interested,  I 
learn  of  this  now  for  the  first,"  he  said,  dryly.  "Am 
I  to  understand  that  Miss  Stafford  told  you  I  gave  her 
a  ring  ?  " 

"  She  gave  me  to  understand  that  she  was  engaged 
to  you,"  said  Cynthia,  quickly,  looking  him  straight 
in  the  eyes. 

Bruce  took  a  step  nearer  to  her. 

"  It  is  false  ! "  he  said,  with  white  lips. 

A  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  crimsoned  Cynthia's 
face  and  neck.  She  regarded  him  earnestly. 

"False  ?"  she  whispered. 

Bruce  took  the  little  brown  hands  in  his,  and 
looked  down  into  her  face. 


232  A  NYMPH  OF  THE  WEST. 

"False!"  he  said.  "Don't  you  know,  darling, 
there  is  but  one  girl  in  the  wide  world  I  would  be 
willing  to  make  my  wife  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  shyly  through  the  tears  of  a 
moment  before. 

"  Who  is  thet  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Cynthia  Dallas  !  " 


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114  SOUPS,  SAUCES. 
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